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No. 5 


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A TALE 


VALLLY 


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STREET £ SMITH • PUSLISHERS • NEW YORK 


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NO. 5 


MORE OF BERTHA M. CLAY’S NOVELS ARE SOLD THAN 
OF ANY OTHER AUTHOR. 


Bertha M. Clay’s Novels 

The majority of these novels are copyrighted and can 
be had only in the Clover Series. Paper, 2 s cents. 


For a Woman’s Honor (new). 
A Heart’s Uitterness. 

A Heart’s Idol. 

Tli(> Giitsy’s Daughter. 

In Love’s Crucible. 
i\Iarjorie Deane. 

(dad vs (4reve. 

Another \Voinan’s Husband. 
Violet Lisle. 

Fair, but Faithless 
Another Han’s Wife. 

Between Two Hearts. 

’Twixt Love and Hate. 

A Woman’s Temijtation. 
Beyond Pardon 
Put Asunder. 

Between 'fwo Loves. 

Under a Shadow. 


The EaiTs Atonement. 
Repented at Leisure. 

AVeaker than a AVoman. 

Dora Thorne. 

A Golden Heart. 

A Mad Love. 

The Dnke’s Secret. 

Wife in Name Only. 

A Fiety Ordeal. 

The Shadow of a Sin. 

A WT.'inan’s War. 

(.haribcl s Love Story 
An Ideal Love (new). 

From Out t!ie Gloom 
Tiioriis ::nd Orange Blossoms. 
Thrown On the World 
Loi’d LMine's Choice 
Sunshine and Roses. 


For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent 
postage free on receipt of price, by the publishers. 

STRHFT & SMITH, 

25 to 31 Rose Street, New York. 


Ui^DER EIRE. 


BY T. P. JAMES. 



TKE SERIES 

Devoted to Stories of Patriotism and Bravery. 


THE YANKEE CHAMPION, 

By Sylvanus Cobb, Jf. 

A SOLDIER LOVER, 

By Edward S. Brooks. 
A FAIR PIONEER, 

By J. M. Merrill. 

THE DISPATCH BEARER, 

By Warren Edwards. 

UNDER FIRE, 

By T. P. James. 


PUBLISHED BY STREET & SMITH. 


FOR SALE EVERYWHERE 


UNDER FIRE 


A TALE OF THE SHENANDOAH VALLEY. 


BY 


IIJ 



NEW YORK: 

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 
29 Rose Street. 


Copyrighted 1896 by Strket & Smith. 







t - 


m^DER EIRE. 


CHAPTER I. 

lOVE’S YOUNG DREAM. 

“I believe you promised me this dance, Miss Mc- 
Vane,” said Royal Clietwood, pausing in front of one 
of South Carolina’s fairest daughters. 

“Yes,” replied the charming young lady, blushing 
like a rose as she turned to the gentleman who till 
this moment had engaged her attention. 

“You will excuse me, Captain Trafton, for a few 
moments. ” 

The music struck up, and Chetwood and his part- 
ner were presently lost in the mazy waltz. 

Captain Trafton, who wore the uniform of the 
State militia, looked after the pair with anything but 
a pleased expression on his saturnine face. 

It was easy to see that he had been interrupted in 
what, at least to him, was a delightful tete-a-tete^ and 
he evidently resented the gentleman’s action in claim- 
ing what was undoubtedly his right — the fulfillment 
of a previous engagement. 

Captain Trafton ’s eyes glittered ominously. 

He stroked his mustache nervously. 

Apparently, he was not a man who took even con- 
ventional annoyances as a gentleman ought. 

In the present instance he was more than put out. 


6 


LOVE’S YOUNG DREAM. 


It was the first chance of the evening that he had 
seized upon to detain the daughter of the house at his 
side. 

He was deeply interested in the fair Southern girl, 
for she, was not only a lovely woman, but the only 
child and heiress of the McVane property, which was 
no inconsiderable portion, as Senator McVane, late 
of the United States Senate, was a man of great in- 
fluence and wealth in the Palmetto State. 

It will be presumed, then, that Captain Trafton had 
cast his eyes upon the possibility of winning not only 
a charming wife, but a handsome fortune as well. 

Under these circumstances the gallant officer might 
well be excused for feeling a trifle sore. 

But Captain Trafton had a far more potent reason 
for his displeasure. 

He had for some time recognized Royal Chetwood 
as a dangerous rival. 

And not without reason. 

The handsome young fellow had made a decided 
impression upon Miss McVane. 

Nor was she alone the only woman who admired the 
stalwart young Pennsylvanian, since his social debtit 
among the elite of Charleston. 

More than one designing mother had set her net, 
so to speak, for him, but though the target for many 
a bright eye and winsome smile, this young Chester- 
field seemed yet to be perfectly heart whole, unless 
indeed Miss McVane herself was the fortunate young 
lady. 

Senator McVane had given the reception, which 
was a ball on a small scale, in honor of his daughter’s 
nineteenth birthday. 

It was well attended by the aristocratic set in which 
the distinguished politician and his family moved, 
notwithstanding the critical state of affairs in Charles- 
ton. 

Though mirth and social gayety reigned supreme 


LOVE’S YOUNG DREAM. 


7 


iti the mansion that evening, all were more or le^s on 
the vive for the expected climax. 

Indeed, it seemed to be generally understood that 
unless Major Anderson, who had within the last two 
weeks taken possession of Fort Sumter, down the bay, 
surrendeied the garrison to General Beauregard, the 
fort would be bombarded before daylight. 

Preparations looking toward such a contingency 
had been going on for days. 

Batteries had been hastily thrown up on Sullivan’s 
Island, and at Morris Point, and a floating battery 
constructed and anchored within favorable range of 
the uncompleted battlements of Sumter. 

The guns of Fort Moultrie, lately vacated by An- 
derson, and those of Fort Johnson, nearer the city, 
were already trained upon the object of attack. 

Altogether, the arrangements made by General 
Beauregard were both formidable and menacing. 

Only a spark was needed to set the inflammable 
material in motion and encircle the grand old fortress 
with a blaze of shot and shell. 

The inhabitants of Charleston and vicinity were 
aroused to the highest pitch of excitement, and at 
the hour our story opens, the wharves and every 
available point of vantage commanding the harbor 
were crowded with expectant spectators waiting for 
the curtain to rise on the lurid drama. 

The McVane mansion was so situated as to over- 
look the waters of Charleston harbor. 

The male guests of the evening divided their atten- 
tion between the fair women present, the wine-room 
in the annex, and the grounds and veranda looking 
seaward. 

A strange sense of excitement and exhilaration 
throbbed in every one’s veins. 

Even the ladies crowded the windows and parts of 
the veranda between the dances, eagerly discuss|ing 
the situation with their admirers. 


LOVE’S YOUNG DREAM. 


Royal Chetwood alone of all that throng was in- 
wardly troubled. 

He was a Northern man, and his whole sympathies 
were with the North in this momentous hour. 

He was uneasy because he feared the worst. 

He strongly deprecated the stand taken by the 
South. 

He was opposed to a continuance of slavery. 

But he was far too tactful to express any opinion, 
except a very guarded one, in the face of the over- 
whelming opposition. 

Though many suspected the true sentiments of the 
handsome visitor, no one attempted to draw him 
forcibly into an argument. 

Southern chivalry forbade such a violation of hos- 
pitality. 

Therefore, beyond an occasional bit of harmless 
badinage, which he skillfully parried. Royal Chet- 
wood was subjected to no unpleasant conU etemps. 

So while mirth and music whiled the moments 
away, the volcano smoldered beneath the very feet of 
the dancers. 

As the last notes of the waltz died away, Royal 
Chetwood led his charming partner back to her seat. 

But Captain Trafton had gone away, so our hero, 
taking advantage of the situation, monopolized the 
fair girl’s attention for the time being. 

‘H am afraid. Miss McVane, this may be our last 
meeting for some time to. come, ” said Royal, wist- 
fully gazing into Bertha’s face. 

“Our last, Mr. Chetwood?” said the lovely girl, 
her bright smile vanishing in a moment. 

“Yes,” he said, almost sadly, “our last. I expect . 
to go North to-morrow.” 

“So soon,” she said, looking down at the carpet. 

“I am sorry, but ” 

He paused, scarcely knowing how to excuse the 


LOVE’S YOUNG DEEAM. 


9 


sudden resolution lie had decided upon some time be- 
fore. 

She did not seem to notice his embarrassment. 

“I wish to say how much I have enjoyed this 
visit, ” he continued, desperately. “Charleston is a 
beautiful city, and I have been very handsomely 
treated by all whose acquaintance it has been my 
good fortune to make. But ” 

“I understand,” said Bertha, in a low voice. “You 
are a Northern man — you see much transpiring about 
you here at this unfortunate crisis which hurts you. 
Am I not right?” 

“You have guessed it,” he said, his heart throb- 
bing violently, “and you, I fear, will soon think of 
me with feelings of — of ” 

He could not bring himself to pronounce the word. 

“Of what, Mr. Chetwood?” she said, raising her 
large, lustrous eyes suddenly to his face. 

“Repugnance,” he blurted out. 

“Why should I? Indeed, you surprise me. I have 
always ” 

She stopped and blushed vividly. 

“You are a Southern girl,” he said. 

“Yes,” she said, proudly, “I am.” 

“Need I say more?” said Royal, almost patheti- 
cally. “Our friendship has been the sweetest episode 
of my brief visit here. You have been more than 
kind, and — and I hope you don’t think me ungrate- 
ful ; but I fear there is a shadow rising between 
us — the same that is at this moment menacing the 
tranquillity of our country. Oh, Bertha — Miss 
McVane ” 

His secret had escaped him when he uttered her 
Christian name. 

And now she, too, was much agitated. 

Yet with an effort she laid- her beautiful hand, 
sparkling with diamonds, upon his arm and lifted her 
eyes to his face. 


10 


TWIXT LOVE AND DUTY. 


She saw tears sparkling beneath his eyelashes, and 
her woman’s heart warmed to him with all the 
strength that a true, sympathetic, loving nature yields 
to the object of its first attachment. 

The moment was fateful for those two young hearts. 

For the time being, they were unconscious of their 
surroundings, unmindful that the music had struck 
up again for a cotilion, and that another gentleman 
was approaching to claim the fair girl for his partner 
in one of the sets forming. 

Royal seized her fingers with a tremulous grasp. 

The words, so sweet when uttered by one we love, 
fluttered upon his lips, when — — 

“Miss McVane, may I have the pleasure ” 

The gentleman to whom she was engaged for the 
dance stood smiling before them. 

The airy bubble of the moment broke and vanished. 

“Certainly, Mr. Hollis,” said Bertha, instantly re- 
covering her self-possession, and rising from the sofa. 

Casting a glance at Royal, which thrilled him for 
many a day afterward, she accepted the proffered arm 
and was gone. 

And Chetwood’s eyes followed her fairy -like fcrm 
wistfully, hungrily, like one famished — as indeed he 
was — for very love. 


CHAPTER IL 

’YWIXT LOV^ AND DUTY. 

The wine-room was crowded. 

Senator McVane, standing upon a chair, was ad- 
dressing his male guests with all the fervor that his 
patriotic Southern blood could throw into his speech. 

“The Southern States,” he was saying, “have in 
the exercise of the inherent right of every free people 
to change or reform their political institutions, with' 


•TWIXT LOVE AND DUTY. 


11 


drawn from the Federal Union, and formed a govern- 
ment of their own. I repeat, gentlemen, the Confed- 
erate States at this moment constitute an independent 
nation.” 

His voice was drowned in a round of applause and 
a rattle of glasses. 

‘ ‘The South has already crossed the Rubicon, ’ ’ con- 
tinued the Senator, “and whatever may be the final 
result, impartial history will record the innocence of 
the Confederate States and place the responsibility of 
the blood and mourning that may ensue upon those 
who have denied the great fundamental doctrine of 
American liberty that governments derive their just 
powers from the consent of the governed.” 

Here the speaker was/ ^ m interrupted by another 
vehement demonstration, clearly showing how high 
partisan feeling ran. 

“There is no one present but is aware that we have 
tried to arrive at a peaceful solution of the present 
crisis. We sent commissioners to Washington a 
month ago, fully authorized to adjust all questions 
growing out of this political separation. The national 
authorities at the capital, however, have seen fit to 
ignore their mission ; and the active naval and mili- 
tary preparations of the United States Government, 
as well as the formal notice served upon General 
Beauregard, commander of our forces around this 
harbor, that President Uincoln intends to provision 
and reinforce Fort Sumter, for forcible means if nec- 
essary, can only be construed as a declaration of war 
against the Confederate States, for the President of 
the United States knows that Fort Sumter cannot be 
provisioned without the effusion of blood.” 

The excitement was now at fever heat, and the 
applause deafening. 

“Gentlemen, I have but one word more to say. It 
is now one o’clock in the morning. Within one hour 
from this time, unless Major Anderson reconsiders 


12 


’TWIXT LOVE AND DUTY. 


his determination, fire will be opened on Fort Sum- 
ter. ’ ’ 

Senator McVane descended from his impromptu 
pedestal and mingled with his enthusiastic guests. 

One hour more. 

Beauregard, fortified with instructions from Mont- 
gomery, the capital of the Confederacy, had sent his 
ultimatum to the beleaguered garrison down the bay. 

Sixty seconds ! 

How fateful with the destinies of the greatest na- 
tion on the face of the globe ! 

Who could foresee the results which would follow 
the flash of the first gun fired in anger against the 
Stars and Stripes ! 

The guests began to thin out, as most of the ladies 
were anxious to get home before the imjfending bom- 
bardment commenced. 

Captain Trafton was pacing up and down the 
veranda. 

His brow was black as the night, and his eyes wore 
a menacing expression. 

“She loves that fellow!” he muttered, between his 
teeth. “I can read the truth in her eyes, in every 
action when he is by her side. And I was so sure of 
her, until he came — until to-night! But it shall never 
be ! Even were I indifferent on the subject, her father 
would never permit her to entertain the proposals of 
a Northern man. Every smile she bestowed upon him 
to-night bore its fruit in an added hatred against the 
man who has dared to come between me and the wo- 
man of my heart. He shall pay dearly for them. I 
will grind this fair gallant beneath my heel as I 
would a viper in my path. I swear it ! It will be an evil 
hour for any man when he presumes to thwart me — 
be the object what it may. ” 

The captain clearly showed the violent and im- 
placable side of his character. 

The mask of conventionality was for the time be- 


»TWIXT LOVE AND DUTY. 


13 


ing torn aside, and his soul lay bare with all the 
venom of his fierce, and we may say, cowardly nature 
uppermost. 

We are glad to say that Captain Trafton was far 
from representing any type of true Southern chivalry. 

Those who knew him best respected him the least, 
for strive as he might, the polluted blood ever be- 
trayed itself. 

And he was conscious of his weakness, and the 
knowledge rankled in his heart, and added fuel to the 
passions of an unbridled nature. 

“I will kill him I” he exclaimed, at last, and turn- 
ing on his heel passed down the steps into the ex- 
tensive grounds about the house. 

It wanted but a few minutes of two o’clock. 

The great parlor that an hour before echoed to the 
strains of gay music and the rippling laughter of 
light-hearted women was almost deserted. 

The last of the guests were exchanging their final 
morsels of small talk with Mrs. McVane and drop- 
ping out in pairs. 

In the shadows of the curtain that draped one , of 
the French windows. Royal Chetwood stood holding 
Bertha McVane’s fair fingers in his tremulous grasp. 

The present was theirs, but the future — ah ! 

Royal was, may we use the expression, miserably 
happy. 

And Bertha, swayed by her warm Southern patriot- 
ism on the one side, and her love for the handsome 
Pennsylvanian on the other, stood trembling by his 
side. 

Their very silence was a pathetic exhibition of the 
crisis that swayed men’s souls and — women’s. 

Poor Cupid had shot his arrows with unerring ac- 
curacy, and now his impalpable presence hovered 
over the pair in mute anxiety for the result. 

One — two ! 

The silvery chimes of the Sevres clock on the 


14 


’TWIXT LOVE AND DUTY. 


mantel chimed the hour, and History held her 
breath. 

‘ ‘ Bertha. ’ ’ 

Royal Chetwood’s voice quivered. 

He felt her fingers tighten in his grasp. 

‘‘In a few moments we shall know the irrevocable 
decree of fate. I love you, God knows how dearly, 
but,” he said, a proud enthusiasm lighting up his 
eyes, “I love my country also. Heaven forbid that 
the blood of heroes, who knew no North or South, 
spilled on many fields in the Revolutionary War — 
spilled here in Charleston, behind the ramparts of the 
old Palmetto fort, where Moultrie frowns to-night, to 
preserve to us, their descendants, a free and glorious 
republic — should cry its protest from the soil of this 
beautiful State, from all the thirteen original States, 
against this sin of a mistaken patriotism.” 

“Royal,” she said, “for my sake, try to look at 
the matter in its true light. Be the man I believe you 
are. I love you. Do not leave me. Stay in Charleston 
and let me feel how proud I am of you. What tie 
should be dearer to you than that which binds you to 
the girl you love ? Think me not unwomanly to speak 
thus. It is my heart that pleads, and would wrest you 
from the brink on which I can feel you are trem- 
bling. ’ ’ 

“Bertha, would you tempt me to prove false to my 
duty ” 

“Duty!” she said, drawing herself up. “You have 
said — nay, sworn that you love me. Of your own free 
will have you laid your heart at my feet, knowing 
that I am a daughter of the South. You cannot have 
been so blind as to think I would desert South Caro- 
lina even for — you. I repeat again, I love you. 
Royal, even as I love my people and their principles. 
What more can you exact of me? Your duty, then, is. 
to remain here, by my side, to protect me, if need be. 


BETKAYED AKD BETRAYEE. 15 

with your life. I give you all I have to give — my 
heart. Is it not enough V ’ 

“Yes, a thousand times yes,” he cried, pressing 
her hand to his fevered lips; “and yet — oh, heavens, 
my country!” 

“Your country should be my country — as mine 
should be yours.” 

As she spoke, a thin streak of fire curved in the 
distance from Fort Johnson, hovered an instant above 
Sumter, then broke in a brilliant flash. 

It was the signal shell — the first gun of the war. 

They both saw it. 

“See,” she said, with sudden enthusiasm, “Beau- 
regard has spoken. ’ ’ 

He stood trembling with the awful fear of the next 
moment upon his soul. 

“Speak, Royal — my heart’s beloved-^speak 1 ” 

Several consecutive flashes of light spurted from 
Moultrie, and the quivering shells springing into the 
air, burst in succession aboye the ramparts of Sumter, 
encircling the waving folds of Old Glory in a halo of 
fire. 

The sight started a new light in Royal Chetwood’s 
eyes, and dissolved the spell that had held him. 

“Desert that flag?” he cried. “Never!” 

“Then,” said Bertha, drawing from him and 
standing erect, “are we indeed strangers.” 


CHAPTER III. 
betrayed and betrayer. 

After having been abroad the greater part of the 
night, or rather morning of the memorable 12th of 
April, Captain Trafton returned to his luxurious 
bachelor apartments in the fashionable section of 
Charleston a little before sunrise. 


16 


BETEAYED AND BETEAYEK. 


The roar of the batteries down the bay was sweet 
music to his soul, and in a measure soothed the bitter, 
rebellious passions aroused by the non-success of his 
love affair in which Bertha Me Vane so largely fig- 
ured. 

But his jealous resentment toward his more success- 
ful rival — Royal Chetwood — did not for a moment 
slumber. 

His crafty heart had already devised means for 
thwarting the young Pennsylvanian, and he hugged 
the consolation to his breast that his revenge would 
be both sure and speedy. 

His Satanic Majesty must have chuckled over such 
a compliant pupil, and should out of pure infernal 
ecstasy have smoothed the evil pathway the captain 
was treading; but not so; instead, he waspreparing 
fresh obstacles and annoyances for his ready tool ; 
which ought to be a sufficient warning for all inclined 
to put faith in so slippery a taskmaster. 

Captain Trafton had scarcely divested himself of 
his coat and vest with a view of seeking a few hours’ 
slumber, when his quick eye descried an envelope on 
the bureau addressed to himself. 

The writing seemed a bit familiar, and yet he did 
not immediately recognize his correspondent. 

He tore the covering off the epistle, and glanced 
quickly down the paper for the signature. 

It was plain enough, and when we say that the two 
words gave him a great and unexpected shock, we are 
putting it very mild indeed. 

With a face as white as the ceiling above him, he 
crushed the note in his grasp with an oath. 

“She here — in Charleston — at this moment! Great 
Heaven 1 What shall I do ?” 

After a few minutes he became sufficiently com- 
posed to read the communication. 

It ran thus : 


BETRAYED AND BETRAYER. 


17 


“Ezra: — Convinced at last that you had basely de- 
serted the woman whose devotion you betrayed, I 
found means, which I need not explain, of uncover- 
ing your track. You meant to be well rid of me, 
since you have tired of the plaything of an idle hour ; 
but a wronged and desperate woman is not so easily 
cast aside. For myself, the future holds naught but 
the bitterness of death, since the man I so sincerely 
and blindly loved is unworthy of the heart so easily 
won. But I now demand and will exact justice. I 
have discovered your real name and position in so- 
ciety. Unless you would endure exposure of a kind 
which no honorable man could bear, the public ex- 
posure of your villainy, come to me at once. I have 
to say that which must be said. 

“6 Eaurel place. Mary Beuff. ” 

“In the name of all that’s infernal, how could she 
have made this fatal discovery? I must see her, that’s 
plain, else ruin will follow. Be it so. I must compro- 
mise this matter. If it’s money she wants, the affair 
can' be easily arranged, but if she insists on recogni- 
tion — bah ! that’s impossible. If she prove unreason- 
able — well, I must seek some effectual way of silenc- 
ing her importunities — and that at once.” 

With this pleasant reflection, the captain partly 
disrobed, and threw himself upon the bed. 

Some men beset as Ezra Trafton was would have 
courted sleep in vain. 

Not so the captain. 

His attitude toward women had been particularly 
unsavory, and the constant fondling of an evil tend- 
ency had so benumbed his conscience that anything 
in the nature of remorse for his many delinquencies 
made but a feeble impression upon that calloused 
organ — his heart. 

It is said that no man is so bad but he may at some 
time, however unwillingly, be surprised into betray- 


18 


BETRAYED AND BETRAYER. 


ing at least one spark of the divine nature implanted 
in every human breast, if the subtle chord can be but 
touched. 

Captain Trafton was yet to experience that sensa- 
tion. 

For the present we can only aver that his sonorous 
breathing testified that his conscience and his material 
self seemed to be on excellent terms. 

In the meanwhile, as morning grew apace, the 
excitement in and about the city mounted to fever 
heat. 

The Mercury and other daily papers issued extras 
with flaring head-lines and lurid descriptions of the 
latest aspects of the bombardment. 

The citizens of Charleston flocked to every avail- 
able point whence a view of the scene transpiring 
down the bay could be observed. 

Business was at a stand-still. 

The one topic engrossed the public mind. 

The issue was- readily discounted, the only questions 
were how long would it last, and what effect would 
the assault on Fort Sumter have on the North. 

Would it serve to bring the country to its senses? 

Would the Federal Government recognize at last 
the great fact of a completed and successful revolu- 
tion ? 

Was the madness which inspired it to depart with 
this single paroxysm? 

Was this to be a drama of a single act, or merely 
the prologue to a most momentous military tragedy? 

The forts and impromptu batteries surrounding 
Sumter maintained a steady and uninterrupted fire 
all day. 

The beleaguered garrison returned the compliment 
after an intermittent fashion, for they were sadly at 
disadvantage in the fray. 

The smoke rolled away seaward in great clouds. 

Several times it was noticed that flames had broken 


BETRAYED AND BETRAYER. 


19 


out within those massive walls of granite, and the 
onlookers more than half expected to be treated at 
any moment to a brief Vesuvian eruption, for a large 
supply of powder was stored in Sumter. 

The bombardment was at its height when Captain 
Trafton stepped from his lodgings into the deserted 
street. 

He was dressed with his usual faultless care, but 
not in his regimentals this time. 

There was no sign of care or perplexity upon his 
smoothly shaven countenance. 

The mask that hid it all was charmingly serene. 

He directed his steps toward the aristocratic hotel 
where it was his custom to take his meals. 

It was just noon, and the captain was not much 
behind his usual breakfast hour. 

He had some difficulty in being served, but under 
the unusual circumstances this was excusable. 

The place was practically deserted by the customary 
habitues. 

Captain Trafton ate his breakfast with surprising 
deliberation, and astonished the few waiters who had 
not deserted the establishment by going through the 
morning paper with the utmost sang froid. 

This was all the more incomprehensible, as he was 
known to be one of the most violent partisans in the 
aggressive movements on foot. 

If the captain was impassive and irresponsive to a 
degree, he had his reasons. 

Every man is presumed to know his own mind, 
and Ezra Trafton had never been accused of not 
knowing his. 

It was one o’clock when he left the hotel. 

Half an hour later he turned the corner of Laurel 
Place and rang the bell at No. 6. 

It was a quiet neighborhood, wearing a genteel and 
retired aspect. 

It had once been fashionable, but fashion, like 


20 


BETKAYED AND BETEAYER. 


everything else, has a penchant for forsaking the old 
quarters for the new. 

But she usually leaves a shadow of her mantle be- 
hind ; that’s why Laurel Place had an air above the 
common, though many of the present householders 
were sadly out-at-the-elbows, so to speak, and were 
therefore much concerned in hiding the fact from 
public gaze. 

That’s why there were a good many lodgings to let 
in Laurel place. 

And No. 6 was a very fair sample of its neighbors. 

The bell was evidently grudgingly answered by a 
young woman of Hibernian lineage. 

Was a lady named Bluff stopping there? 

She was. 

Could the captain see her? 

The servant didn’t know, but she would find out; 
so Ezra Trafton was piloted into the little front parlor. 

It was an oblong apartment, yet showing traces of 
former finery in the way of faded decorative work, 
and rusty -looking panels ; but to the aesthetic eye of the 
captain, it was undisguisedly shabby, and he shuddered 
as his sense of smell was assailed by certain odors of 
cooking that sifted up from the region below. 

He was not kept waiting long. 

In a few moments Mary Bluff, looking very pale 
and constrained of manner, entered the room. 

Ezra rose from his chair and bowed in a conven- 
tional way, as though even this bit of politeness cost 
hijn an efforl. 

“You have come,” she said, coldly. 

“I have come, though for what purpose I know 
not. To have a woman’s reproaches, I suppose,” he 
replied, stiffly. 

“I have asked you here, Ezra Trafton, or Ezra 
Anderson, as until the last few days you were known 
to me, to say that, having unmasked your perfidy, 
and knowing now your true name and position, I in- 


BETRAYED AND BETRAYER. 


21 


tend to be recognized as your wife — publicly before 
the world. ” 

“Nothing can be gained by our reunion,” he said, 
slowly. 

“Our reunion!” she said, bitterly; “I care not for 
that. I could never live with you again. The past is 
dead as though it never existed. I am a Virginian, 
accustomed to regard honor as man’s noblest posses- 
sion. You have shattered that idol as respects your- 
self; that I could love — fondly, passionately, unre- 
servedly, you have long since discovered. That I can 
hate and despise the man who employed the artifice 
of an evil nature to ruin me — you have yet to learn.” 

Captain Trafton shivered under his cool exterior. 

This calm, impassive arraignment of his villainy 
was something he had not bargained for. 

He had expected tears, reproaches, the almost 
mute appeal of a meek and unprotected woman. 

He was nonplused, and for a few minutes a deep 
silence ensued. 

It had been his intention to temporize, to cajole, 
to threaten if necessary. 

Now the cowardly element of his nature forced its 
way t© the surface, and for the moment he was be- 
wildered and hesitated how to proceed. 

“I have an imperative reason for insisting on my 
recognition, however, ” she continued, with resolute 
mien. “My own right I might resign, but I cannot 
resign the right of your son and heir.” 

The effect of these words was tremendous. 

The captain sprang to his feet, fairly livid with 
rage and consternation. 

“Woman,” he exclaimed, hoarsely, “what infernal 
plot are you trying to spring upon me ? Son, indeed ? 
I have no son 1” 

“You have, Ezra Trafton,” said Mary, also rising, 
and regarding him with a mixture of loathing and 
contempt; ^’'our child was born six weeks ago.” 


22 TWO IS COMPANY, BUT THREE IS A CROWD. 

‘‘Woman, you lie!” 

“I do not lie, Captain Trafton. You are the father 
of my child. I swear it — before Heaven!” 

Mary Bluff raised her arm in solemn asseveration, 
and Ezra Trafton, convinced of the truth in spite of 
himself, sank back in his chair. 


CHAPTER IV. 

TWO IS COMPANY, BUT THREK IS A CROWD. 

If ever there was a baffled, dismayed man, that per- 
son was Captain Trafton at that moment. 

And Mary Bluff, like an accusing Nemesis stood 
darkly in the foreground. 

Where now was Ezra’s castle building in which 
Bertha McVane was the central figure ? 

Ruin and bitter disappointment stared him out of 
countenance unless 

His master, the devil, was at his elbow surely, for 
a dark, grim, desperate resolve developed itself upon 
this brain, where since the early morning but a shad- 
owy negative of the purpose had existed. 

“I have every proof needed of your villainy,” said 
Mary Bluff. “The confession of the scoundrel who 
enacted the part of the minister. The acknowledg- 
ments of the two witnesses seduced by your money. 
Oh, it was a brave deed for a Southern gentleman to 
lend himself to, wheie a weak, confiding, unsophisti- 
cated woman w^s the object of his unbridled attain- 
ment. It was contemptible ! It was criminal ! You 
call yourself a part of our Southern chivalry ! Is it 
not the boast of every true son of the South that a 
woman is by right and nature entitled to the pinnacle 
of respect and esteem? Yet you, unworthy scion of 
such a precious heritage, have dared to contaminate 


TWO IS COMPANY, BUT THREE IS A CROWD. 23 

the nest in which you were reared ! Hark ! You hear 
yonder guns? A million hearts are at this moment 
beating in unison with their thunder ! A million men 
are ready to draw their swords for the defense of a 
principle ! Are you worthy to take your place by 
their side? No! A man who can coolly and desig- 
nedly wrong a woman is a coward who will shrink at 
the first emergency 1’^ 

Her voice smote Ezra’s ears like the trumpet tone 
of an accusing angel. 

He wiithed under her innuendoes. 

He ground his teeth impatiently as she hurled the 
anathema of her scorn upon his head. 

And he knew he deserved it all. 

He knew he was a villain. 

Yet what scoundrel, polished though he be, is 
willing to accept the verdict his deeds merit? 

“You are hard upon me,” he said, at last, “and 
have taken me by surprise. I must have time to 
think. You will be home this evening, I suppose?” 

There was a cold glitter in his eyes which, as his 
face was in the shadow, she did not notice. 

“Yes,” she said, simply, “I am always at home.” 

“I will call some time after dark. I will see what 
I can do, as you are so determined upon your course. 
It is a misfortune to me that you have sought me 
out. You have me on the hip, and like a woman,” 
with a sneer, “you press your advantage.” 

The innuendo was not lost on Mary Bluff. 

“It is worthy of you to scoff at what you are least 
capable of appreciating. You cannot forget that you 
had a mother, and that the taunt you cast on woman 
must also reflect on her.” 

“No more of this,” he said, impatiently, taking 
up his hat. “I will call to-night.” 

“And I will expect you,” she said, with marked 
significance. 

The interview ended abruptly, and Captain Traf- 


24 TWO IS COMPANY, BUT THREE IS A CROWD. 

ton left No. 6 Laurel place in a mood that would 
have troubled his most intimate friend to analzye. 

Whatever plans he had previously considered with 
the view of the present emergency he now proceeded 
to carry out. 

His position was desperate, since the selfish am- 
bition that dominated his life, permitted of no half 
measures. 

The ruin of a pure, true woman he regarded 
merely as an indiscretion — one of those unavoidable 
foibles of a man of the world — which he was. 

It was not his first crime against society ; but it 
was the first that had reacted so unpleasantly against 
himself. 

He had struck a snag. 

Therefore there was only one course open, to him. 

It must be removed. 

Money is a potent factor in the affairs of this world. 

It is the Archimedian lever of the universe. 

And Captain Trafton knew its value. 

He had money, though not all. his heart craved. 

Were he successful in winning Miss McVane, his 
position, though tenable at present, would be assured. 

As the son-in-law of the distinguished Southern 
politician, his social standing would be stamped with 
the “hall-mark” of the higher circles. 

His character would receive a permanent gloss, and 
he could review with complaisance the piccadilloes 
of the past. 

Thus his master, the Devil, poured flattering unc- 
tion on his victim’s soul, while he forged fresh chains 
for his undoing. 

Captain Trafton went straight to the “Moultrie 
House, ” a private hotel in the semi-fashionable su- 
burbs, whither he had sent a note earlier in the day, 
apprising a certain boon companion of his intended 
visit. 

He was shown up to his friend’s room, and found 


TWO IS COMPANY, BUT THREE IS A CROWD. 25 

that worthy smoking a cigar by the open window, 
and rather impatiently awaiting his appearance. 

“Good-day, Major de Banyan.’^ 

“Happy to see you, Captain Trafton.” 

“You are enjoying yourself, major?’’ 

“Faith, captain, it’s a weakness I have, and one of 
the penalties of a good digestion.” 

“Of course,” said Ezra, drawing up a chair. “I 
can easily see you’re in prime condition.” 

“Thank you — I’m suffering from my usual good 
health. And now, please the pigs, may I inquire to 
what I am indebted for this distinguished honor?” 

“Certainly, major; I have pressing need for your 
services this evening, for which I intend, as on for- 
mer occasions, to offer you a handsome gratuity.” 

The major gave a low whistle. 

“Oh, is that the way the wind blows. By me soul, 
you couldn’t have called at a more fitting opportu- 
nity, as my exchequer is most alarmingly empty, and 
the landlord is pressing me for his odious ac- 
count.” 

“Are you ready to litsen to me?” 

“Faith, I’m all ears.” 

Captain Trafton at once entered into a guarded rev- 
elation of the cause leading to his embarrassment, and 
then proceeded more minutely to outline the means 
he proposed to take in order to relieve himself of the 
unenviable contingency that overshadowed him. 

“By the piper, it’s no small complication ye are 
mixed up in this time ; but there’s nothing like tak- 
ing the bull by the horns, d’ye mind. A private asy- 
lum is the very thing to my mind to suit the case. 
The lady will be well cared for as long as ye pay the 
footing. As one of her majesty’s late regimental sur- 
geons, faith I think I can easily certify that the lady’s 
out of her mind. Of course, it’ll be necessary for me 
to see her, in order that me conscience may rest easy 
in the matter, and the certificate be signed all right 


26 TWO IS COMPANY, BUT THKEE IS A CROWD. 

and proper. You’ll take her to Doctor Meigg’s, of 
course, on the old stone turnpike?” 

“That is my intention.” 

“Shure they’ll be no trouble at all, at all.” 

“I should hope not.” 

“Rest your mind easy, my boy; the matter is as 
good as settled. Faith, I’ve always been told that I 
was the divil among the girls, but I take my hat off 
in your presence, the more power to you.” 

It is to* be presumed that the captain felt flattered 
at the compliment ; what man does not when congrat- 
ulated upon his conquests among the sex? 

Major de Banyan produced a bottle of choice 
whisky, and a box of cigars, and the delectable pair 
completed the details of their little scheme much to 
their own satisfaction. 

Perhaps they would not have been so exhilarated 
had they known that every word of their unguarded 
plot had been overheard by the occupant of the next 
room, whose window being also open, enabled him to 
hear what was not intended for a third pair of ears. 

The fact of the matter was, that nearly everybody 
seemed to be so occupied with the bombardment of 
Fort Sumter, that the pair of plotters quite over- 
looked the most ordinary precautions; indeed, it was 
by the merest accident that the adjoining apartment 
was occupied ; as the guest, none other than our 
hero, Royal Chetwood, had through the perversity of 
the hotel clerk missed the train by which he had in- 
tended to go North. 

But such is life. 

It is the little things cropping up most unexpect- 
edly that sometimes decide the fate of nations, as well 
as rule the destiny of man, and bring his best laid 
plans to naught. 


WHAT THE MOON SAW ON THE OLD STONE PIKE. 27 


CHAPTER V. 

WHAT THE MOON SAW ON THE OLD STONE PIKE. 

“I’ll have a carriage here at eight, sharp, major,” 
said Captain Trafton. 

“All right, me boy; I’ll be ready. And now if 
you’ve funds handy, faith, I’d like to touch you for 
fifty, just to ease me mind, and the landlord’s impor- 
tunities. ” 

“There you are. Major de Banyan. I’ll hand you 
a check for the balance when the little affair is 
settled. ” 

“Truth, you’re an angel without wings, me jewel; 
and here’s a long life to you for a fascinating Don 
Juan as ye are. ” 

The bumper was drank, and the pair of military 
scoundrels — and Major de Banyan showed himself to 
be a thorough -paced one — quitted the room. 

It was half-past eight when a carriage rattled into 
Eaurel place and stopped at No. 6. 

Two men occupied the vehicle ; only one, however, 
alighted. 

He walked up the steps, rang the bell, and was 
admitted. 

Mary Bluff was seated in the dimly lighted parlor, 
waiting for Captain Trafton. 

And he had come. 

“Mary,” he said, having, Judas-like, changed his 
tactics since the former interview, “I have pondered 
over this matter since I was here this .afternoon. Your 
accusing words have sunk deep into my heart, and I 
humbly confess that I have, indeed, acted to you the 
part of a villain. Forgive me if you can — I can never 


28 WHAT THE MOON SAW ON THE OLD STONE PIKE. 

The wronged woman, who was not prepared . for 
this sudden change of front, regarded him with great 
surprise. 

“Why should there be a feud and hatred between 
ns?” he continued. “Yon once loved me.” 

“I did, and your perfidy has wrecked the hearts of 
my parents, and sent my brother from home, Heaven 
knows where. ” 

“You have asked me to repair this wrong, ” he 
said, in a sanctimonious tone, “so far as to protect 
our child.” 

The last word seemed to choke him, but his acting 
was so natural that it passed for an excess of emotion. 

“I am willing to do more. I will take you this 
very night to my mother’s, acknowledge in her pres- 
ence your rights as my wife and the mother of my — 
child, and claim for you her protection, until we 
shall have been united by a minister of the gospel.” 

“You will do this — to-night?” said Mary, a gleam 
of pleasure in her eyes. 

“I will. If you do not wish to live with me, at 
least our son will be formally recognized, and I will 
settle sufficient money upon you both to provide for 
your maintenance and his education.” 

“Are you really speakirg the truth — or am I 
dreaming?” she said. 

“I mean exactly what I say.” 

“Oh, man — man, do not deceive me in this, as you 
value your soul’s salvation. Think for a moment 
what I have suffered ! Try to realize the horror of 
my abandoned situation ! Then you may understand 
why I hesitate in accepting too quickly this gleam of 
happiness — the first in many months. Swear to me, 
in the name of your Creator, that this is the truth!” 

“I swear!” said Ezra Trafton. 

But he shivered as he took the unhallowed oath. 

“Then I believe you. I will try to forgive you. 
Indeed, I will, for the sake of our child.” 


WHAT THE MOON SAW ON THE OLD STONE TIKE. 29 

“The carriage is waiting, Mary, “ he said, uneasily, 
for this phase of villainy brought the cowardly blood 
into his cheeks. 

“I will be ready in a moment.’* 

And she left the room to prepare herself. 

“Ugh!” exclaimed the captain, when alone, wip- 
ing the perspiration from his forehead. “It takes the 
nerve of the old boy to go through such a scene. 
Only the desperate nature of my predicament could 
have sustained my self-possession. “Well,” he con- 
tinued, pacing the room, “the devil helps those who 
help themselves, I fancy, and may he help to the end 
is my fervent wish.” 

In ten minutes Mary Bluff was ready to go with 
her recreant lover. 

They passed quickly down the steps and Ezra 
opened the carriage door. 

“There is some one here,” said Mary, holding 
back with one foot on the carriage step. 

“Oh, yes,” said the captain, hastily, “it is a fam- 
ily connection. Major de Banyan, this is my 
wife. ” 

“Faith, madame, it gives me great pleasure to 
know you,” said the military gentleman, gallantly. 

Reassured, Mary entered the carriage and faced the 
ex-army surgeon. 

The captain, after speaking to the driver, jumped 
into the vehicle and shut the door. 

So far the conspiracy was extremely successful. 

Let us leave them and retrace our steps a bit. 

As soon as Royal Chetwood heard the plotters leave 
the adjoining room and go down stairs, he drew a 
long breath and exclaimed : 

“Well, of all the infernal bits of deviltry hatched 
in this world, that’s the most despicable. I should 
forever despise myself if I did not interfere to bring 
confusion upon those scoundrels, and save the poor 
lady whose fate is involved in such a mean conspir- 


30 WHAT THE MOON SAW ON THE OLD STONE PIKE. 

ac}^ Pretty officers they are, indeed,” with a sneer, 
“Captain — I didn’t catch his name, and Major de 
Banyan. I presume he’s some cashiered officer of the 
British Army. What shall I do ? Things are at such 
sixes and sevens here to-day, that I can scarcely ask 
any of these people, whom I now regard in the light 
of enemies, to take a hand in this matter. There are 
but two of them, and I fancy one honest, determined 
man is more than their match. I’ll arm myself and 
essay the adventure alone. Heaven will surely assist 
the side of justice and humanity.” 

Royal Chetwood looked every inch the man he 
was. 

Handsome, stalwart, athletic — a true specimen of 
nature’s nobleman. 

Well might beauty’s eye be attracted to him: 

Young, it is true, but none the less able to rise to 
the level of any emergency. 

On a particularly lonesome stretch of the old stone 
turnpike leading north from Charleston, about the 
hour of eleven, stood a broad-shouldered young man, 
his attention strained in the direction of the city. 

The reader will easily recognize the hero of this 
story — Royal Chetwood. 

His horse was tethered close by. 

The bright early moon hung like a silver crescent 
in the blue ether. 

The monotonous croak of the frog was to be heard 
on all sides. 

Far away, mellowed by distance, came the deep 
booming of cannon, and the sky in that direction was 
aglow as with a fearful conflagration. 

There was scarcely any breeze, and the trees lining 
the road-way cast ghostly shadows. 

Nature seemed to cower under the lurid gloom of 
the war-spectre’s eye. 

Hark! 


WHAT THH MOON SAW ON THE OLD STONE PIKE- 31 

The sound of horses’ hoofs and the rattle of car- 
riage wheels came faintly to Chetwood’s ear. 

He placed his hand in his coat-pocket and drew 
forth a revolver, which he cocked, and then returned 
to its hiding-place. 

The time for action had arrived. 

Nearer and nearer came the vehicle. 

A turn in the road presently brought it into view, 
rolling along at a sharp pace. 

Two minutes more it was close at hand, and Royal 
stepped boldly out on the road-way. 

“Stop!” 

The driver pulled his team up short. 

A head was thrust from one of the openings of the 
carriage, and a voice demanded the cause of the sud- 
den stoppage. 

A stifled scream hastened the climax. 

In an instant Chetwood stepped up beside the con- 
veyance. 

“Is Major de Banyan here?” he said. 

“Faith, I am,” replied that worthy, putting out 
his head. “Who the divil are you, and what do you 
want?” 

“Step outside, if you please.” 

“Outside, is it? ’Pon my honor, but that’s a cool 
way of introducing yourself. I don’t know you. 
Drive on 1” 

“Stop!” exclaimed Royal, sternly. “I have bus- 
iness with this gentleman.” 

“The divil you have. You seem to know me, but, 
by the hoofs of Balaam’s donkey, you have the best 
of me, faith. What do you want? Speak quick!” 

“Come out of the carriage.” 

“By I don’t know as I will,” said Major de 

Banyan, suddenly thrusting a revolver into Chet- 
wood’s face. 

Royal, quick as thought, thrust the weapon aside, 
and it exploded harmlessly. Then he turned the han- 


32 WHAT THE MOON SAW ON THE OLD STONE PIKE. 


die of the door, tljrew it open, and, with a lightning 
grasp, dragged the major headlong from his seat. 

Captain Trafton was holding Mary Bluff tightly 
against the back of the carriage. 

Royal seized him with all the strength of his mus- 
cular arms, and pulled both out of the vehicle, catch- 
ing the lady in time to save her from a bad fall. 

“Now you pair of scoundrelly abductors make 
yourselves scarce, for your game is up!” 

Captain Trafton was fairly cowed by the unex- 
pected attack. 

He was a man of no great personal valor. 

But the major was of different mold. 

Rascal, indeed, he was, but no coward. 

He had proved his intrepidity on many a desperate 
field during the Crimean War. 

Royal was quick to perceive that he was an ugly 
antagonist. 

Our hero had hazarded his chances upon the first 
surprise. 

In this he had partially succeeded, but the adven- 
ture was not over by any means. 

“Get into the carriage, madame, quick!” he said. 

As he spoke, Ezra Trafton, crouching on the 
ground, drew his pistol and fired. 

A. heart-rending scream mingled with the report, 
and Mary Bluff dropped across the steps of the vehi- 
cle, for the captain’s nervousness had disarranged his 
aim, and our hero stood unharmed. 

“The divil!” exclaimed the major, aghast. 
“You’ve hit her, man.” 

Then he deliberately covered Royal. 

Chetwood raised his weapon at the same instant, 
and the two reports were as one. 

For a second, as the smoke cleared, both men ap- 
peared to be unhurt; then Royal lurched forward, 
fell at full length, and lay motionless on the turnpike. 

“Faith, I was sure I couldn’t miss the blackguard,” 


A TEREIBLE CATASTEOPHE. 


33 


Said tile major, breaking the silence. “He isn’t the 
first one I’ve pinked.” 

Which was the truth, lor Major de Banyan was a 
noted duelist, and a dead shot. 

“Hark! There’s a horseman coming down the 
pike. Rouse up, man; we must be off, faith! It 
won’t do to be caught here. This woman is stone 
dead, and will be after bothering you no more. Your 
shot found her heart. ” 

The major, who was a man of action, put the body 
into the carriage, and hustled Captain Trafton in 
before him. 

“Back to the city, you devil!” he shouted to the 
driver, “and whip up like the old boy!” 

The jehu was only too glad to obey. 

The vehicle whirled quickly about, and was soon 
tearing down the road like mad. 

The oncoming horseman had evidently heard the 
shots, for he had quickened his pace to a dead gallop. 

He drew rein beside the motionless figure in the 
road, and dismounted. 

“By the Lord!” he exclaimed, as he turned Royal 
over on his back, and the moon shone cold upon the 
marble features, “there has been murder done here, 
or my name’s not Moses Bluff!” 


CHAPTER VI. 

A TERRIBIvB CA'TASTROPHE. 

The assault on Fort Sumter seems to have been 
designed by Providence to rouse the patriotic senti- 
ment of the country to an enthusiastic determination 
of sustaining the Constitutional Government and its 
territorial integrity at every hazard and whatever cost. 

The attack upon the Sixth Massachusetts regiment 
by a frenzied mob in the streets of Baltimore appealed. 


34 


A TEBEIBLE CATASTBOPHE. 


to a deeper sentiment and tempered entlinsiasm witli 
a stern resolution, like that which knit the brows of 
the people, and compressed their lips, on the evening 
of the fight of Concord and Lexington in 1776. 

President Lincoln had already issued his call to the 
Governors of the States in sympathy with the North 
for 75,000 men to serve for three months. 

And the call was answered with a readiness and 
spirit that clearly showed the temper of the people. 

From that hour events followed one another with 
Startling rapidity, gradually ascending in the scale of 
importance as the warlike operations broadened ; and 
before many weeks the entire country was wide 
awake to the fact that a war, that would be far reach- 
ing in its effects, was upon the nation. 

During the first few weeks of the struggle, when 
both sides were, we may say, girding their loins, for 
the first desperate grapple, the hero of this story, 
Royal Chetwood, whom Major de Banyan and Cap- 
tain Trafton had left for dead on the old stone turn- 
pike, was lying in the City Hospital at Charleston. 

Moses Bluff, the brother of the murdered victim of 
the captain’s sensualism, had, as we have already 
seen, found his inanimate body on the spot where he 
fell. 

Finding that the young man’s heart was still faintly 
beating, he had carefully brought him into the city 
and to the hospital. 

For more than a week. Royal’s life was despaired 
of. 

The bullet had passed through his body, just above 
the heart, and the wound was of the most dangerous 
character. 

Thanks to a robust constitution and the best of 
rnedical treatment, he slowly rallied, but for a long 
time looked the mere ghost of his former self. 

Moses Bluff, who had traced his sister to Charles- 
ton, divided his time between his search for Mary, of 


-A TERKIBLi^ CATASfi^oBHE. 


S5 

whose fate he was ignorant, and the young Pennsyl- 
vanian, in whom he had taken a large and increasing 
interest. 

There was another vi.sitor also. 

Bertha McVane. 

She had learned of his condition through the 
papers. 

They had published a sensational account of the 
shooting as a most mysterious affair, in which 
nothing was known but the identity of the victim. 

The daughter of the South Carolina Senator found 
on calm reflection that it was no easy matter to relin- 
quish her regard — the strong attachment of a maid- 
en’s first love — for her handsome lover, from whom 
she had parted that eventful night in a fit of pique 
and anger because he put his loyalty to the Stars and 
Stripes before his allegiance to her. 

When she learned that he lay dying, as it was sup- 
posed, at the City Hospital, she put every considera- 
tion aside, and, like the true woman she was at heart, 
went to him. 

But it was days before she was permitted to. see 
him, and then, struggling with the delirium of a dis- 
ordered fancy, he could not recognize her. 

Before he became sufficiently rational to understand 
what was going on about him, Bertha was obliged to 
go to Montgomery with her mother, as the Senator 
had taken an important duty upon his shoulders in 
the interest of the new Confederate States. 

And thus a reconciliation, which surely would have 
taken place, was indefinitely postponed. 

Royal Chet wood was convalescent when Moses 
Bluff, after the most indefatigable exertion, finally 
learned of his sister’s pathetic death and the real 
identity of her betrayer. 

It is safe to say that but for Captain Trafton’s dis- 
appearance from his usual haunts, and the impossibil- 
ity of tracking him, after days of patient effort, alone 


Sd A TEimiBLE CATASTROPHE. 

saved the scoundrel from the fate he richly de- 
served. 

The two young men became much attached to one 
another. 

Moses was grateful for the fruitless effort made by 
Royal to save his sister, and Chetwood felt that young 
Bluff had saved his life. 

Although a Virginian, the brother of poor Mary 
Bluff confided to his friend that, like hundreds of 
others in the State that gave him birth, his sympa- 
thies were with the North. 

Days before Royal was able to leave the hospital, 
it had been determined between them that they would 
enter the Federal Army together, and fight for the 
maintenance of the republic as a unit. 

The two young men were on the eve of their jour- 
ney northward when the news of the repulse of the 
National troops at Great Bethel, June loth, reached 
Charleston. 

The intelligence set the city wild with joy and en- 
thusiasm. 

Bonfires were lighted, and other demonstrations of 
an exuberant character were indulged in by the loyal 
spirits of the South. 

The victory was all the more significant because it 
was officially known that the Unionists had outnum- 
bered their opponents at least two to one. 

Everybody looked upon this success as a favorable 
augury, and prophesied the speedy ending of the 
war. 

But they reckoned without their host, and although 
the first really great battle of the Rebellion, which 
occurred during the ensuing month, resulted in a sig- 
nal victory for the Confederate arms, and the almost 
total rout of the Federal Army, opening the road 
right up to Washington, the Nation’s capital, and 
thus still further justifying the hopes of the Southern 
cause while it cast unspeakable gloom far and wide 


A TERRIBLE CATASTROPHE. 


87 


throughout the North ; the fratricidal struggle, after 
all, was only just beginning. 

Royal and his friend Moses left Charleston on the 
morning of June 12th. 

Their destination was Richmond, whence they pro- 
posed to make their way at the first favorable oppor- 
tunity to Fortress Monroe. 

As the trains hurried past smiling fields and pros- 
perous-looking villages basking in the early summer 
sun, war seemed so utterly inconsistent with their 
surroundings as to tempt one to believe that it really 
must be only the waking recollection of a frightful 
dream, and not the stern reality of the hour. 

They were by mutual consent silent upon the issue 
that concerned them, for the train was crowded, and 
watchful ears on the alert would have picked up any 
unfavorable word uttered by either. 

More than half of the passengers were going north- 
ward to enlist under Beauregard and Johnson. 

The greatest excitement pervaded the train. 

The gay uniforms of an entire company of Charles- 
ton militia lent a color to the motley assemblage that 
was exhilarating to a degree. 

But as a whole it had more of the features of a mil- 
itary picnic, omitting that important part of such an 
affair — the ladies — than the serious nature involved. 

It was four o’clock in the afternoon, and the train 
was making good time along a more open part of the 
country, when a succession of ear-piercing screams 
from the locomotive startled everybody. 

They were rounding a sharp curve on the line at 
the moment. 

What followed those who escaped the disaster re- 
membered to their dying day. 

It was a tremendous concussion. 

In the car occupied by Royal and Moses everything 
movable, human and inanimate^ was thrown about 
helter-skelter, 


38 


TRAFTON ELUDES HIS NEMESIS. 


A wild, chaotic scene of confusion. 

A grinding, crunching sense of dissolution. 

Car crashing into and over car. 

Clouds of blinding, scalding steam. 

Then screams of terror and agony, relapsing into 
the moans of the dying and the less fatally injured. 

A pandemonium of horror ! 


CHAPTER VII. 

TRAFTON ELUDES HIS NEMESIS. 

The transition from a scene of hilarity and life to 
one of shocking confusion and death was as brief as it 
was unexpected. 

A misplaced switch had been the cause of the ter- 
rible accident. 

The north-bound passenger train, running on 
schedule time, had left the main track, and ran into a 
heavy freight train waiting on the siding for this 
very train to pass. 

In a moment, without the slightest warning, more 
than two-score souls were hurried into eternity, while 
perhaps a hundred more lay about in the debris in all 
conditions of bodily laceration. 

Royal Chetwood and his companion were among 
the few fortunate ones who in some miraculous man- 
ner escaped without a scratch. 

When they crawled out of the ruins of their car, 
and recovered their startled senses, their eyes took in 
a scene of frightful confusion. 

Both engines lay, fractured masses of iron, across 
the track, and enveloped in clouds of escaping steam. 

The forward cars were piled on their sides on top 
of one another, shapeless wrecks. Indeed, some of 
them were little better than heaps of splintered wood 


TRAFTON ELUDES HIS NEMESIS. 


39 


and twisted iron, wrenched into every conceivable 
shape. 

Many of the slightly injured were pinned in the 
derailed cars unable to move, while others were pain- 
fully crawling out of the windows or through jagged 
openings in the wood-work — all more or less dazed by 
the catastrophe. 

“This is awful!’’ exclaimed Royal, as he and Mose 
threw off their coats and started in to assist in the 
task of removing the injured and dead, 

“Awful is no name for it,” replied his companion. 
“Look at that poor fellow there. Think what he is 
suffering. We must get him out. ” 

But it was no light job to move the wedged-in frag- 
ments of wood, and though volunteers were hurrying 
up from all directions, the task of getting at all the 
unfortunates seemed almost hopeless. 

Royal and Moses succeeded in pulling out the man 
in question, but he was so desperately injured that he 
expired as they laid him upon the turf beside the 
track. 

Their next essay was to tear open a hole in the roof 
of one of the cars to admit of the escape of several 
imprisoned passengers. 

There was one, however, who could not get out, 
as he was held beneath a canopy of disjointed car- 
seats. 

So Royal and Mose had to drop down into the car, 
and essayed to lift the obstruction so as to get at him. 

It was evident he was alive, though they could not 
see the upper half of his body, or hear a single groan. 

It seemed an age to Royal and his companion ere 
they pried the wood-work sufficiently apart fb enable 
them to pull the body out. 

To their great astonishment, the man sat up un- 
aided, brushed the splinters from his bleeding coun- 
tenance, and coolly remarked : 

“Faith, upon my word as an officer and a gentle- 


40 TBAFTON ELUDES HIS NEMESIS. 

man, that was a narrow escape. But, plase the pigs, 
I’ll be all right in the twist of a cat’s tail, so I will. ” 

Royal started from the shock of a sudden surprise. 

The tones were familiar to him. 

He looked searchingly at the speaker. 

“Major de Banyan, I think,” he said, sternly. 

“That’s my name, sure enough,” replied the ex- 
army surgeon, “but upon my honor, I can’t place 
you for the life of me. ’ ’ 

“Look again, sir. ” 

“Faith, I’m looking,” said the major, quite 
puzzled indeed, “where have I met you, my dear 
fellow?” 

“Is it possible you don’t recognize me?” said 
Royal. 

“The divil a bit, were I to be hanged for it this 
blessed minute. ” 

“Shall I assist your recollection?” 

“It would be very obliging on your part, for by 
the staff of St. Patrick, I’d be willing to swear I 
never saw you before in my life.” 

“Your memory seems to be very much at fault,” 
said Royal, “if you cannot identify the man you 
shot.” 

“The man I shot !” exclaimed the major. “It’s 
joking you are, my dear boy.” 

“It was no joke for me. You left me for dead that 
night on the old stone turnpike road, some five weeks 
ago. ’ ’ 

If our hero had expected to startle the major by 
this revelation, he was certainly disappointed. 

“My dear fellow,” exclaimed de Banyan, effus- 
ively, “I am heartily ashamed of myself, so I am. It 
was all a mistake, I assure you. I took you for a 
footpad, upon me soul, I did, until I saw your name 
mentioned in the Merairy day. Any reparation 
I can offer — on the honor of a de Banyan, I stand 
ready to make. ’ ’ 


TRAlFTON ELUDES HIS NEMESIS. 41 

‘‘Major de Banyan, you waste your words, ” said 
Royal, with rising indignation. “I am fully aware 
of the purpose that brought you and that scoundrel, 
your friend. Captain Trafton ” 

“Trafton!” exclaimed Moses BlufF, who had been 
a silent spectator on the scene. “Does this man know 
that villain?’^ 

“Most intimately,’’ said Royal. 

“Sir,” said Mose, addressing the major, in tones 
that bespoke his intense feeling, “if you know the 
present whereabouts of Captain Trafton, you will, if 
you have the commonest gratitude for what we have 
done for you to-day, reveal it to me. ’ ’ 

“Faith, my dear sir, it would give me great pleas- 
ure to oblige you ; but, faith, sir, I’m as much in the 
dark as to the cap’n’s movements as yourself. It’s 
three weeks since I laid eyes on him. ’ ’ 

“Are you telling me the truth’ ?’ exclaimed Moses, 
almost angrily. 

“Do you doubt the word of an officer and a gentle- 
man’ ?’ said de Banyan, with real or assumed indigna- 
tion. 

“That man is a scoundrel!” said young Bluff, ve- 
hemently. “He ruined my sister, and her death lies 
on his guilty soul. I have sworn to avenge her, and 
will kill him on sight!” 

“Faith, I’ll not dispute your right to do as you 
think proper, but, when one takes the law into his 
own hands, the authorities are apt to make it unpleas- 
ant for him, do you mind?” 

Here Royal interfered. 

“Major de Banyan, shall we assist you out of the 
car?” 

“Upon my word, you’re very kind, so you are; but 
I’m not at all hurt, barring a few scratches that’ll 
wear away. ” 

“Since that is the case, there is work for us else- 
where, and I would suggest that any assistance you 


42 TEAFTON ELUDES HIS NEMESIS. 

can lend the injured would simply be a Christian act 
on your part. ’ ’ 

“I never shirk a duty, sir, said the officer. “I 
trust we part friends. ’ ’ 

“We can never be friends. Major de Banyan,” re- 
plied Royal, coldly. 

“As you will,” answered the major, shrugging his 
shoulders. 

A moment later the three were outside the car. 

Royal and his friend hastened to offer their aid 
elsewhere, while the officer, tearing off his coat, made 
good his word. 

An hour later a wrecking train came from the near- 
est large town, bringing a corps of doctors. 

A large number of the more seriously injured of 
the passengers were put on board the cars and carried 
away for hospital treatment. 

The work of clearing the track now began in ear- 
nest, and before dark the line was open. 

The dead were stretched in rows upon the grass, 
and presented a solemn spectacle. 

One could easily fancy, in the light of the military 
operations now in progress, that a battle had been 
fought in the vicinity. 

The accident had delayed traffic many hours, and 
several trains were waiting to proceed up and down 
the road. 

Royal and Moses got on board the first north -bound 
accommodation, and went on to the next town. 

Here they put up for the night, and bn the ensuing 
morning continued their journey to Richmond. 

The closer they drew to the vicinity of tlie early 
operations of the war, the more portentous were the 
scenes and military preparations they saw on every 
hand. 

Bodies of armed men hastily gathered together 
were frequetnly discovered marching along the cquu- 
try roa,ds, 


TRAFTON ELUDES HIS NEMESIS. 43 

Excitement reigned everywhere. 

The local papers were full of incidents of a martial 
character, and accounts of skirmishes, invariably 
favorable to the Confederate arms. 

Virginia in the East, and Missouri in the West, 
were the chief grounds of military operations at this 
early stage of the conflict. 

It was evident that General Beauregard, the chief 
in command of the Confederate forces in the first- 
named State, was leaving no stone unturned in his 
endeavors to whet the enthusiasm of the Confederate 
population. 

His proclamations were scattered broadcast. 

A printed copy of one was put into Chetwood’s 
hand as the train was nearing Richmond. 

That the Confederate commander was getting a 
ready response to his burning words for enlistment 
was very apparent. 

Men were flocking about his standard from all parts 
of the South, and already he had gathered quite a 
considerable force, which he was busily organizing, 
drilling, and supplying with arms. 

It was evening when the train rolled into the depot 
of the Confederate capital. 

Royal and Moses went at once to one of the leading 
hotels and engaged a room. 

After supper they strolled about the city and made 
cautious inquiries as to the mode of conveyance to 
some point whence they could transfer themseves be- 
yond the pale of the new government. 

This proved to be not too difficult of adjustment, 
and their plans were outlined accordingly, with a 
view of getting around every contingency likely to 
arise. 

They then returned to their hotel. 

As they were passing along the corridor on the sec- 
ond floor^ a door opened, and a man in military attire 


44 


LOVE’S SACRIFICE. 


stepped from one of the rooms, pausing to bid some 
one net visible good-night. 

As he turned away, Royal came face to face with 
him. 

“Captain Trafton!” he exclaimed. 

The words were hardly out of his mouth when 
Moses Bluff, with a wild cry, brushed by him and 
seized the man by the arms. 

But Trafton had taken instant alarm, and endeav- 
ored to regain the room he had just quitted. 

The result was that in the scramble that ensued 
both men fell to the floor. 

Moses had but one purpose in view now that he had 
the man he wanted in his grasp. 

He had no weapons about him, but a pair of strong 
hands upon a man’s windpipe are apt to prove quite 
as effective in a close struggle. 

The captain was no match for this avenger of a 
sister’s wrong, but he was better prepared, inasmuch 
as he carried a pistol in his coat-pocket. 

The noise of the affray quickly drew others to the 
scene ; but before any one could interfere, or Royal 
Chetwood suspect his object, Trafton drew his re- 
volver and discharged it in the breast of his assailant. 

Moses relinquished his desperate hold with a groan 
and fell over upon the carpet, while the captain 
sprang to his feet and dashed rapidly down stairs. 


CHAPTER VHI. 

LOVE ’ S SACRIFICE. 

Amid the excitement that ensued Chetwood raised 
his friend’s head on his knee and begged some one 
to run for a doctor. 

Mose was unconscious, and bled copiously from the 
wound inflicted by the bullet, 


LOVE’S SACEIPICE. 


4S 

Royal was wild with anxiety, and stanched the 
flow of blood as best he could. 

Every one wanted to know the cause that led to 
the shooting ; but their inquiries were ungratified. 

A surgeon rooming at the hotel was soon on the 
scene. 

He examined the wounded man, and pronounced 
the injury dangerous, but not necessarily fatal. 

Moses Bluff was carefully removed to an unoccupied 
room on the same floor, and the surgeon having 
brought his instruments, the bullet was probed for 
and removed. 

Royal was then left in charge of the patient, who 
had been made as comfortable as his condition per- 
mitted. 

It was many days before he was pronounced out of 
danger, and during this time Royal Chetwood never 
left the room except to snatch a hasty meal. 

As for Captain Trafton, he was seen at the hotel 
no more. 

The affair was a great mystery to the guests and 
attaches of the hotel, as Royal, the only one they 
judged to be conversant with the cause of the trouble, 
could not be induced to make any kind of an expla- 
nation. 

The excitement of the hour easily diverted every 
one’s attention" from the incident, as all were expect- 
ing a decisive battle to be fought between the oppos- 
ing armies on Virginia’s soil. 

This sanguinary event was not long delayed. 

The evening of the day that Moses Bluff ventured 
out of doors for his first airing brought the intelli- 
gence of the decisive Confederate victory at Bull Run. 

The news set Richmond wild with joy. The most 
extraordinary demonstrations were indulged in ; all 
of which were viewed with feelings of despondency 
by our young friends so unfortunately isolated in the 
capital of the Confederacy, 


LOVE’^ SACEIPICE. 


U 

Altiicugii the Federal forces that had invaded Vir> 
ginia were' badly whipped, and in full retreat toward 
Washington, the accounts of the battle were natur- 
ally grossly exaggerated.^ 

The air was pregnant with all sorts of ruinorSi 
Southern sympathizers were now certain that the 
tional Governnrent w^as completely annihilated, and 
that as soon as the District of Columbia was occupied 
by General Beauregard, which was regarded as a fore- 
gone conclusion, an armistice would ensue, and the 
Confederacy would obtain every concession they had 
originally demanded. 

That their cause was a just one was not for a single 
moment questioned. 

This civil struggle had been started to sustain a 
principle, the principle would now obtain, peace must 
ensue, and the Southern Confederacy, as a separate 
government, would naturally be recognized by the 
powers of the earth. 

England, on whose evident sympathy they relied, 
would take the initiative, and all Europe must of 
course fall in line. 

No wonder the prospect was enticing. 

But the South entirely miscalculated the feeling of 
the great mass of people constituting the bulk of the 
republic. 

Defeat might sadden, but it could not cause them 
to yield one star from the glorious galaxy founded by 
the immortal Washington, and cemented by the 
blood of the Kevolutionary patriots. 

“Civil war is a sad thing to contemplate,” said 
Boyal, as he and his friend watched the excited 
throngs from the hotel window. 

“It is deplorable,” acquiesced Moses. “I fear we 
are only at the beginning of a most desperate strug- 
gle.” 

“I am convinced that the Confederacy will find 
they have bitten off more than they can chew, to use : 


LOvti’S SAC^I^tcE. 


47 


tile expression. One swallow doesn’t make a summer, 
nor one defeat a war. The South must yield in the 
end; it is manifestly impossible for it to whip the 
North, and unless it can, its cause is hopeless. All 
things being equals might is sure to win in the 
long run. No matter what temporary advantage they 
may secure, the Confederacy is clearly outclassed.” 

“We should have been in this fight but for my 
wound. This inaction worries me. I sorely regret 
that I have been the cause of detaining you here 
when you could have been actively engaged in up- 
holding our country’s flag.” 

“Don’t speak of it, my dear friend,” said Royal. 
“My first duty is to the man who saved my life.” 

“You have more than repaid the debt,” said Mose, 
pressing his hand. 

“Indeed, I have not.” 

“It was in my poor sister’s defense you received 
your wound. Think you I can ever forget that? It 
was a noble, disinterested act to face those scoundrels 
alone. Few men would have run the risk. Though 
a Northern man, you have all the chivalry that flows 
in the veins of a Southern gentleman. I am proud of 
your friendship — of your companionship.” 

“A truce to this, Moses. I appreciate your regard, 
and feel equally honored in knowing you. But this 
is no time for mutual admiration. Ret us talk of 
our country. Let Pennsylvania and Virginia clasp 
hands across the chasm and swear never to rest until 
our glorious Union is once more intact — an example 
for all nations to copy. ” 

Fervently the young men grasped each other’s 
hand, and silently registered their mutual resolve. 

“I think,” said Moses, “it is well that we separate 
for a while at least. ” 

“Separate 1” exclaimed Royal. 

“Yes. I have been thinking over the matter for a 
week past. I have planned to return to the old home. 


48 


LoVE’S sacrifice. 


Itls but just that my poor father ^nd mother should 
be relieved of the uncertainty of my sister’s fate. 
Her death will bow them down with grief, but at 
least they will know that she, poor child, is at rest, 
and it is better that my lips should soften the intelli- 
gence, than that they should casually learn the full 
horror of the tragedy from other sources. ’ ’ 

“You are right, Moses,” said his friend. 

“I then intend to raise a troop of my neighbors, 
for most of my intimate associates are loyal to Old 
Glory, and will take the field at once. ’ ’ 

“Well,” said Royal, “I will not demur, though I 
regret the necessity that we must part. However, 
we shall meet again, for as soon as I can assure my 
own family that I have not been gobbled up down at 
Charleston, I shall enlist and go to the front.” 

And so it was settled. 

After supper that night Royal chanced to wander 
into the ladies’ parlor, possibly with the view of 
glancing out upon the main thoroughfare which the 
windows of this room commanded. 

As he laid his hand upon the heavy damask cur- 
tains he became aware of the presence of a lady 
standing in their shadow. 

“I beg your pardon,” he said, and was about to 
withdraw, when a flash of light from a freshly 
started bonfire lighted up their countenances. 

“Miss McVane!” he exclaimed, in surprise. 

“Mr. Chetwood!” 

Her voice was low and somewhat constrained. 

“This is unexpected,” he said, gently. “But it is 
not my intention to intrude upon you.” 

“Stay,” she said, with a slight gesture. “We 
meet under changed circumstances, Roy — Mr. Chet- 
wood. Why are you in Richmond — at this time ?” 

“Because my journey North was interrupted by a 
sad accident that happened to a friend — I might 
almost say brother. ’ ’ 


LOVE’S SAClUFicE. 


49 


She did not immediately reply. 

‘‘May I ask what brings you, too, to Richmond?” 

“I and my mother accompanied the Senator, my 
father, who was summoned by Mr. Davis, to fill an 
important post under our new government.” 

Another pause ensued. 

These two young people were evidently embar- 
rassed by the same recollection. 

The events of the last few weeks had made a great 
change in the lives of each. 

They had been drawn unconsciously to look upon 
each other as dearer than brother and sister — in a 
word, they loved as only two impassioned youthful 
natures can love. 

Yet while the avowal and the reply had scarcely 
grown cold on either lip, a gulf had suddenly opened 
between them, with the first gun fired at Fort Sumter. 

A divided patriotism, like an impalpable presence, 
interposed, even as it came between father and son, 
brother and brother, in many a Southern home, thus 
bringing the awful element of fratricide into the war. 

“It were perhaps unmanly in me to call up the 
past,” said the young man, breaking the silence that 
had grown painful to both, “but I have not forgotten 
— nay, I can never forget, that for one brief instant 
— I knew the bliss of your love. Is that love now 
dead? Is there no hope for me in the future?” 

“Hope!” she echoed. “Yes, if you reconsider the 
words you uttered. If you give up the cause to which 
I am opposed with all the warmth of my Southern 
soul. Hear me out,” she said, as he made a gesture 
of despair. “Would I, loving you as I admit, ask you 
to do what I for a moment conceived to be dishonor- 
able? No, Royal, else were I undeserving of your es- 
teem and affection. I am not a foolish girl. I am a^ 
woman fully informed and associated with the issues "" 
involved in this conflict between my people and 
yours. It is not the question of a day or a month. 


50 


BURN AND DESTROY. 


This steadily pursued policy of encroachment upon 
the liberties of one section of the country by the mis- 
taken assumption of the other, which unfortunately 
held the balance of power, has been going on for 
years. I resent it with all my heart — with all my love 
for my native soil. I feel that we are waging' a just 
war in resisting unfriendly aggression. Think what it 
is to me to see your hand raised against us. If wives 
throughout the Confederacy stand ready to sacrifice 
their husbands, and mothers their sons, I at least can 
sacrifice my love, though it break my heart.” 

‘‘Bertha,” he replied, in a sad voice, ‘‘the day will 
come when you will see the folly of this argument. I 
had hoped that perhaps you might — but, there, I see 
it is useless for me to pursue a topic that is painful 
to us both. I love you-^ — I shall always love you. If it 
be my destiny to fall in defense of the flag I reverence, 
my last thought will be of you. Farewell. If we 
never meet again, at least think of me kindly — it is 
the most I dare expect. ” 

“Will nothing change you. Royal?” she said, with 
a sob. 

“Nothing that reflects on the Stars and Stripes. 
Nothing — not even you.” 

And thus they parted. 


CHAPTER IX. 

BURN AND DESTROY. 

A puff of white smoke. 

The sullen roar of a distant cannon. 

This was enough to announce to the inhabitants of 
the beautiful valley of the Shenandoah that “Cavalry 
Sheridan” was let loose, and that the war would now 
be carried to their very doors. 


BURN AND DESTROY. 


61 


Early had been down the valley, and for a time 
seemed to have matters all his own way. 

Grant had uttered the magic words, “Go in !” and 
the Confederates found in Sheridan, on the offensive, 
a far different man than Sheridan on the defensive. 

The sullen roar of Federal cannon announced, on 
this September morning, the fact that the great cav- 
alry leader was on the war-path once more. 

Many of the inhabitants of this richest of Virginia 
valleys had been living in comfort, giving aid to 
the Confederacy while professing loyalty to the 
Union. 

With barns stored with wheat and hay, living on 
the fat of the land unmolested, the Southern sym- 
pathizers were a comparatively happy people. 

What cared they for the Union? 

They did not respect the cause ; neither did they 
fear the defenders of the flag who passed them by un- 
molested. 

But this state of affairs could not last. 

Many Unionists were brutally murdered by bands 
of bushwhackers, who received the protection of the 
inhabitants. 

Sheridan was not the man to permit such outlawry 
without an effort to crush it. 

War is cruel, but these people had not yet felt any 
of its hardships. It was high time some of the severi- 
ties of war should be visited upon the valley of the 
Shenandoah. 

Boom ! — boom ! — boom ! 

Puffs of white smoke rose above the trees and went 
floating away over the hills and vales. 

It is Federal cannon that speaks. 

Where is Early that he permits the onward move- 
ment of this rash young Union general? 

Flying up the valley ! 

Whirled from one point to another by the victori- 
ous Sheridan and his men. 


52 


BUEN AND DESTEOY. 


A pretty red farm-house nestles under the shadow 
of a frowning hill. 

Back of the house a wide field, with a few negro 
cabins, and an immense barn, filled with grain and 
hay. 

A brook glides in serpentine winding across the 
road, and loses itself in a beautiful grove behind the 
house. 

Over this creek a narrow bridge. 

This is one of the best roads in the valley, although 
as yet few of the blue-coated invaders have passed the 
farm-house in question. 

The roar of the distant artillery has brought the in- 
mates of the house to the gate, where they stand list- 
ening to the sounds of approaching battle. 

A trio of interesting people. 

And old man and his wife — both silver-haired, and 
rapidly descending the hill of life — not unpleasant 
looking people, yet bitterly disloyal. 

Beside the two, leaning against the low board fence, 
is a handsome young woman — a Southerner in every 
look and movement. 

Tall and slender, with heavy coils of black hair, 
and eyes large, black, fathomless — gentle at times, 
yet capable of glowing with a lurid passion that 
would carry all before it. This was Bertha McVane, 
from South Carolina, here on a visit at the home of 
her uncle and aunt, in the beautiful valley of the 
Shenandoah. 

The boom of distant cannon on this September 
morning had called the three without. 

It was an ominous sound, and brought an uneasy 
feeling to the hearts of the old couple. 

“That is the artillery, uncle.’’ 

“It is, Bertha. I expect a battle of magnitude is in 
progress down the valley. ’ ’ 

“It is glorious !” cried Bertha, her olive cheek 
flushing, a deep glow filling her eyes. “Early will 


BURN AND DESTROY. 53 

send the Federals back to the I'otomac faster than 
they come. ” 

“Ah, my child, you are over enthusiastic. There is 
grave danger to the Southern cause in Virginia. 
Sheridan now leads the Yankees ; a most desperate 
fighter indeed, and merciless as well,” 

“’Sheridan, the Union cavalry commander? I have 
heard of him. But I have faith to believe that our 
brave Early will put his army to flight.” 

“I hope so; but I fear the worst.” 

It was a serious face, one actually white with alarm 
that Bertha McVane looked into then. 

“Uncle Orvin, don’t worry. Even if the Yankees 
should happen to defeat our brave men, no harm will 
come to you — a non-combatant. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Perhaps not. ’ ’ 

This was all that Orvin Clymore would say then. 

Of what use to burden the young mind of his pretty 
niece with his worst fears. 

“Eook! some one comes, uncle.” 

A cloud of dust appeared to the north, then the 
sound of clattering hoofs fell on their ears. 

“Come in, Bertha; they are Yankees.” 

A squad of Union cavalry dashed forward into view, 
their accoutrements jingling as they rode. 

“No, Uncle Orvin,” she cried. “I have a curiosity 
to look upon a live Yankee. ” 

And Bertha McVane refused to move from her 
position at the fence. 

A minute later the troop — a score of well-mounted 
men — drew rein in front of the farm-house. 

A lieutenant, with an incipient mustache, was in 
command of the party. 

“Hello, old man! How’s your health?” 

“My health is good,” answered the Virginian, who 
was anxious to avoid alt seeming offense. 

“You do look fat; in good condition, I vow — fat 
enough to kill; eh, boys?” 


54 


BUliN AND DESTKOY. 


A rude laugh went through the troop at this sally. 

“Lieutenant, look at that girl.” 

One of the men thus addressed the young officer in 
a low tone. 

But he had no need to call the officer’s attention, 
since that worthy was already made aware of the pres- 
ence of Bertha McVane. 

Beautiful as a goddess, with flaming eyes, and 
cheeks burning with indignation, the girl stood look- 
ing into the young lieutenant’s face. 

“A pretty secessionist,” he said, laughingly. “If I 
thought Captain Ray wouldn’t hear of it, I’d have 
some fun with this impertinent maid.” 

“I have not been misinformed,” finally spoke the 
girl. “Yankees are mudsills in very truth.” 

The lieutenant laughed rather immoderately at this 
rather spiteful remark from Miss McVane. 

“So you have learned the trick of your elders, 
Southern statesmen, and use a term that is very ex- 
pressive, to say the least. If I should retort by calling 
you a clay-eater or dough-face, you’d be indignant, 
wouldn’t you?” 

To this no reply was vouchsafed. 

“Come, Bertha, we will go in now and allow these 
gentlemen to pass on,” said the uncle, in a mild tone. 

His wife was already moving toward the house. 

“Go in, by all means,” cried the lieutenant. “Of 
course you are a Union man?” 

“I -have no political opinions just at present,” an- 
swered Orvin Clymore. 

“A very safe plan, but it won’t work to-day. We’ie 
engaged in rooting out secession in the Shenandoah 
Valley, my friend. Boys, we’ll see what yonder barn 
contains. ” 

Quickly the troopers leaped their horses into the 
garden, crushing the board fence, trampling flower- 
beds and shrubbery as they swept on past the house 
toward the barn. 


BURN AND DESTROY. 


55 


‘‘What will they do, uncle?” 

Bertha asked the question with bated breath. 

“Burn and destroy!”' groaned the old man. 
“Sheridan is laying waste the country on every 
hand. ” 

“But this is worse than barbarianism !” cried Bertha, 
her Southern blood in a flame at once. “Uncle Orvin, 
have you no arms?” 

“Oh, yes; but what can one man do against 
twenty?” groaned Orvin Clymore. 

The Union cavalry troop halted in front of the 
large barn not many rods from the house. 

It required but a brief examination to show that a 
large store of wheat, corn, and hay lay at their 
mercy. 

It seemed a pity to destroy so much that was valu- 
able, but it could not be carried away to serve the 
cause of the Union, and if left, would feed the en- 
emy, and give them nerve and life to fight for the 
Southern flag. 

The rich granaries must not be left to feed that 
cause ; so Sheridan had resolved to lay them waste. 

If, by destroying that which would otherwise feed 
Confederate armies and horses, the war was brought 
to a termination a month sooner, then would thou- 
sands of valuable lives be saved, and what was seem- 
ing cruelty, would, in reality, prove an act of real 
benevolence. 

The party led by the Federal lieutenant was but 
one of many out destroying property. 

Sheridan was indeed to prove a besom of destruc- 
tion to the smiling valley of the Shenandoah. 

Those men who had lived in peace and plenty, 
cursed the flag, and filled their coffers, while raising 
grain for Southern armies, were now to suffer in their 
property at least for their disloyalty. 

Other men, true to the Union and the flag of their 
fathers, had not only lost their fortunes, but their 


66 


BTJKN AND DESTKOY. 


lives, tlieir families either murdered or driven from 
home in penury and want. 

Either side of the picture was bad enough ; but 
little less could be expected during the reign of a 
merciless civil war, which, in its magnitude, dwarfed 
all other wars of the kind, either ancient or 
modern. 

“The barn’s chuck -full, lieutenant.” 

“Apply the match, boys; we won’t delay here a 
great while. From the sounds this morning, I judge 
that Early is making a stand. We must get back to 
the* front to-day. ’ ’ 

“In the name of justice, hold!” 

A clear, bell-like voice fell on the ears of the 
Union troopers as they were about to apply the match 
to Orvin Clymore’s barn. 

“That girl again 1” ejaculated the lieutenant, as 
the slender, yet graceful figure of Bertha McVane 
once more confronted the trooper. 

Behind her, and a little way off, stood Orvin Cly- 
more, leaning ‘against a small tree, watching the 
troopers, with white face and trembling limbs. 

It was hard to see his property go, and he was al- 
most prostrated at the thought. 

Bertha, with her strong mind, stronger really than 
that of her uncle, refused to remain quiet while the 
work of the incendiary was being done. 

“What the duse are you out here for, miss?” 
growled the young lieutenant, rather sharply. 

“Because I have a right to be here,” retorted the 
girl, bluntly. “You and your men are the intruders. 
You have no right to destroy this property, the prop- 
erty of a poor old man, who has lost all but honor in 
this war. ’ ’ 

“Lost all!” sneered the officer. “Why, bless you, 
miss, there’s hundreds of dollars’ worth of grain in 
this barn, and two splendid horses. I guess he’ll 
think he’s poor after we leave. You may thank your 


FACE TO FACE ONCE MOEE. 57 

( 

stars, my girl, that we don’t destroy the house you 
live in. ” - . 

“It would be of a pattern with other acts of the 
Yankee general,” retorted Bertha, who was losing her 
temper, and was likely to lose all chance for recon- 
ciliation by thus speaking her true feelings. 

The lieutenant laughed. 

“Fire the barn, boys!” 

“Hold! I entreat yon to spare my uncle’s prop- 
erty!” pleaded Bertha. 

It was a most beautiful face the maiden turned 
toward those rough riders of Torbert. 

They had met with just such pleading before, and 
were becoming hardened to it. 

“Never mind the girl,” cried the officer, slipping 
from the saddle; “I will take care of her. Do your 
duty, boys; we must be on the move.” 

A few steps only did lieutenant Snyder take toward 
the Southern girl. 

A pistol flashed in the officer’s face. 

“Call off your men, sir, or I fire!” cried Bertha, 
her beautiful eyes flashing her determination. 


CHAPTER X. 

FACE TO FACE ONCE MORE. 

“Look out, lieutenant, that girl means business!” 
cried one of the troopers in warning tones. 

“So that’s your game, eh?” said the officer, as he 
came to a halt before the Southern beauty. “Are you 
mad, young woman ?” 

“Cowards!” cried Bertha, her bosom swelling 
with excitement and indignation. “You call^ your- 
selves men, yet stoop to war upon an inoffensive old 
man, a non-combatant Shame upon you, I say.” 


58 


FACE TO FACE ONCE MORE. 


‘‘This is sheer nonsense, young woman. I have 
my duty to perform. I must and will carry out my 
orders at all hazards.” 

As he spoke, a single horseman dashed down the 
road, and drew up beside the gate. 

He quickly dismounted, entered the garden, and 
came up to the spot where the belligerent girl stood 
covering Lieutenant Snyder. 

“Hullo! What’s this?” exclaimed the new-comer, 
authoritatively. 

He was a man of eight-and -twenty years, tall and 
sunburned. 

Handsome, too, with a light, drooping mustache. 

His uniform of army blue was faded and covered 
with a fine dust. 

His slouch hat was cocked rakishly over one ear. 

And he sported the shoulder straps of a captain in 
the cavalry service. 

“Ha, Captain Chetwoodl” said the lieutenant, 
saluting his superior. “I am having a bit of trouble 
with this foolish girl. You know, my orders — to burn 
and destroy all forage that we suspect may be at the 
service of the enemy. Here, you perceive, we have met 
with some opposition.” 

Royal Chetwood, for it was he, glanced at the 
tanned countenance of the brave defender of her 
uncle’s property. 

She had started, and her face suffused with color on 
hearing the name of the man once so dear to her. 

And now it was his turn to show that this sudden 
and unexpected meeting with the girl he had never 
forgotten or ceased to love was a great surprise. 

They had not met, or heard from each other, since 
the evening they had parted in the hotel at Rich- 
mond, more than four years before. 

“You were about to fire the barn, lieutenant?” he 
said, recovering his self-possesvsion by a strong effort, 

“Iwas,” ' ■ 


FACE TO FACE ONCE MORE. 


59 


“Never mind — you may spare the place, Snyder,” 
he continued. 

“Captain ” 

“I will take the responsibility from your shoulders, 
lieutenant. I am satisfied these people are all right. ’ ’ 

“Why, captain, this young woman is a regular 
Southern spitfire. ’ ’ 

“Never mind, Snyder; you will obey orders. Re- 
mount and go forward ; I will overtake you in a few 
moments. ’ ’ 

The officer saluted, and calling his squad together, 
they rode off down the road at a smart pace, their ac- 
coutrements jingling merrily as they went. 

“Bertha. ” 

“Captain Chetwood,” she said, with simple dig- 
nity, “I thank you for your manly interference in 
our behalf. I shall remember it with — with grati- 
tude. ” 

Orvin Clymore now came forward, his face still 
showing traces of the anxious suspense of the last 
half-hour. 

“You are a Union officer. Allow me to thank you 
for this act of kindness. Had you not appeared so 
opportunely, I had been a ruined man,” cried the old 
Virginian, tremulously. 

“No thanks are necessary, sir,” returned Royal, 
with a half-smile. “I regret that you were molested. 
But our men are scouring the valley, and their orders 
are imperative. It is one of the vicissitudes of war, 
that the non-combatant must sometimes suffer. You 
unfortunately are now on the edge of the conflict, and 
consequently a shuttle-cock for friend and foe. Miss 
McVane, may I have a few moments’ conversation 
with you?” 

.“You have met my niece before?” said the former, 
interrogatively. 

“Yes, at her father’s home in Charleston, on the 
eve of the war. ’ ’ 


eo 


FACE TO FACE ONCE MORE. 


“Uncle,’’ said Bertha, “this is Captain Chetwood. 
Captain, my uncle, Orvin Clymore. ” 

That was the introduction ; then Royal gently led 
the young lady to the spot where his horse^was stand- 
ing, impatiently pawing the earth. 

‘ ‘ How is it I find you here at the very seat of war, 
Bertha?” 

“I have been stopping with my aunt and uncle all 
summer,” she replied, silently admiring the man, 
though she detested the uniform he wore. 

“It was imprudent on your part to continue this 
visit after you learned Sheridan had entered the val- 
ley. ’ ’ 

“I am not afraid,” she answered, assuming a pretty 
attitude of defiance. 

“I might have guessed that,” he said, watching 
her graceful form eagerly. “You have the spirit of a 
soldier. ” 

“Indeed,” she said, with a saucy laugh. 

“I should be proud of you were your sympathies 
on the right side. ” 

“You do me too much honor. Captain Chetwood,” 
she said, ironically. “I assure you, sir, that my sym-. 
pathies are on the right side — they have never been 
otherwise. ’ ’ 

“As uncompromising as ever.” 

“Yes, sir, if you call it such.” 

“I had hoped otherwise.” 

“lam sorry; but I am no traitor to my flag and 
people. ” 

“I don’t wonder this conflict has been so long pro- 
longed, when the enemy has such encouragement as 
you set by your example — for surely there are many 
like you.” 

“lam pleased to learn that you believe this. The 
women of the South are as one in sentiment — in pa- 
triotism — in sacrifice. ’ ’ 

He looked his admiration. 


FACE TO FACE ONCE MORE. 61 

“I am afraid, Bertha, I no longer occup}^ a place 
in your thoughts. ” 

“I must decline to gratify your curiosity on such 
a subject, sir,” she said, with grave dignity. 

‘‘True love can never die,” he ventured. 

“It can sometimes despise,” she said. 

“Am I to understand from that that you regard 
me with such a feeling, Bertha?” 

“I do not admit your right to catchise me. Captain 
Chetwood. If I have ceased to regard you in the 
light of a — a— once dear friend, the fault lies with 
you, sir.” 

“You have learned to hate me, then?” 

“No, not that. I respect, I esteem you as — a man; 
I repudiate you as a soldier.” 

“I am sorry. ” 

“You have chosen your path — why shelter yourself 
behind vain regrets? Had you worn the gray, my 
heart would have followed you in every field — proud 
of its idol. But now ” 

“Well?” he said, interrogatively. 

“You have ceased to interest me.” 

Their eyes met, and his drooped under the shock 
of her words. 

“I have never forgotten you,” he said, slowly. “I 
never wish to. I tried to believe that you still re- 
tained a kindly thought in which I figured. Well” — 
a tear glistened on his eyelash — “the dream is over— 
at last. ’ ’ 

She did not reply, and it was plain to be seen that 
she was agitated in spite of herself. 

“I must go,” he said; “already I have lingered 
too long. I may be cut off at any moment, for Mos- 
by’s men are swarming the neighborhood. You will 
say good-by — for the last time.” 

Mechanically she held out her hand. 

He seized it and pressed it to his lips. 

“God bless you, Bertha ! may you meet some one 


62 COLONEL EZRA TRAEl ON. 

who will make you happy — as happy as I would have 
tried to make you.” 

Once more he pressed her unresisting hand to his 
lips ; then he mounted his horse, and, waving his 
adieu, dashed off down the dusty road. 

She watched him out of sight ; then leaning her 
head upon the fence, she wept, for her woman’s 
heart yearned for its lost love. 


CHAPTER XL 

COLONEL EZRA TRAETON. 

The ringing sound of a horse’s hoofs coming up 
the road at length aroused her. 

Wiping her eyes, she saw that the new-comer wore 
the well-known gray of the Confederate service. 

She quickly recognized the rider as Colonel Traf- 
ton, her affianced. 

Yes, it is true that all things come to him who 
waits. 

And Colonel Trafton, in the disguise of a gentle- 
man and an officer, had, backed by her parents’ ex- 
pressed wishes, won her reluctant acquiesence to their 
engagement. — 

Perhaps it was pique at her first love’s estrange- 
ment ; perhaps it was — but, there ; who shall pre- 
sume to fathom a woman’s caprice? 

Of one thing we are sure — it was not love — that 
passion could not be duplicated while Royal Chet- 
wood lived. 

Her woman’s soul knew he was true to his first 
love ; but her perversity sought to revenge the flight 
she suffered under. 

Foolish heart, how vain was the effort ! 

The colonel rode up and halted his steed at the 
very spot vacated by the Federal officer. 


Colonel kzra traftonL 


63 


^‘Yoii are looking well, Bertha,’^ he said, gallantly, 
as he dismounted. “You were watching for me?” 

“Yes.” 

Oh, what a fib, little Bertha! 

He smiled complacently. 

“This is a dangerous spot, my love. Sheridan’s 
men are everywhere to-day. ’ ’ 

“Then why court peril yourself?” 

“My men are close at hand. See, yonder they 
come. ” 

A small squad of Mosby’s guerrillas came cantering 
up. 

In obedience to a gesture from the colonel, his es- 
cort halted to await his pleasure. 

“Permit me to lead you to the house. I have a 
little business with your uncle.” 

At the door-way of the farm-house Orvin Clymore 
greeted the Confederate officer. 

“Welcome, Kzra, ” said the former. “It’s a pity 
you did not come earlier.” 

“Why so, Orvin?” 

“A detachment of Sheridan’s cavalry was here h^lf 
an hour ago. ” 

“Then I regret the delay.” 

Perhaps he did, but there were people with whom 
the colonel often hobnobbed who were unfriendly 
enough to impeach that officer’s fire-eating assevera- 
tions. 

In other words, they strongly doubted his courage. 

And it is to be presumed they had some reason for 
their private convictions. 

“They intended to destroy my barn and its con- 
tents,” continued Orvin. 

“To what happy accident then do you owe your 
escape from these incendiaries? I presume some of 
our men forestalled me.” 

“No. I owe my immunity to the generosity of 
their commanding officer. ” 


64 


colonel E2511A TBAPTON. 


“Oh, indeed!” said the colonel, incredulously. 
“How is that?” 

“I cannot tell ; perhaps Bertha can enlighten you, 
for he’s an old friend of hers.” 

Ezra Trafton turned to his fiancee^ whose face was 
now all of a crimson glow. 

The colonel perceived the flush, and his jealous 
nature was in arms at once. 

“Who was this — fellow, Bertha?” 

The sneer was not lost on her. 

“A Federal officer whom I met before the war.” 

“A Federal officer?” repeated Trafton. “He was 
extremely polite to favor you in such a signal manner. 
May I ask his name?” 

“You may have met him. His name is Royal Chet- 
wood.” 

An ugly frown settled on the colonel’s face. 

“I have heard of him. A contemptible spy!” 

“Ezra.” 

“Well?” he said, a bit roughly, noticing the indig- 
nant flash from her eyes. 

“You wrong him by applying such an epithet.” 

“Oh, pardon me, ” he said, ironically. “I forgot 
he was your friend. ’ ’ 

“He is one of my country’s foes — as such I hate 
him; but as an officer and a gentleman, I respect 
him, ” she said. 

“One might almost fancy you were a bit — er — in- 
terested in this — er — er person.” 

“Don’t be foolish, Ezra,” she said, impatiently. 

“I should be delighted to meet him.” 

He spoke vindictively it was easy to see. 

“He has been gone but a few moments,” said Orvin 
Clymore. “You and your men might overtake him, 1 
think, if you' cut across the fields.” 

“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” said the colonel, 
“much as I should desire the encounter. Had he a 
large detachment?” 


COLONEL EZKA TKAFTON. 


66 


‘‘His troop preceded him by a mile or two.” 

“Then he rode off alone?” said the officer, with a 
sudden show of eagerness. 

“Quite alone,” replied Orvin Clymore. 

“In that case it is possible I may come up with 
him. I will stop in as I return. ’’’ 

“Ezra, you will not go?” said Bertha. 

“Most assuredly that is my intention. I will con- 
vey to this admirer of yours your kindest regards. ’ ’ 

He said this with an evil smile as he prepared to 
depart. 

“You must not.” 

“Must not?” 

“No. It is not a fair act for you and your men to 
run down the man who has befriended my uncle in 
his hour of emergency.” 

“Nonsense!” - 

“You shall not do it. It is dishonorable — it is cow- 
ardly. Six men against one — I thought better of ^ou, 
Ezra. ’ ’ 

“You are a little fool, Bertha 1” he said, angrily, 
releasing her hand from his arm. 

“Stop!” she said, stamping her foot. “I will be 
obeyed!” 

“You are out of your senses, girl. I shall pursue 
him at all hazards. ’ ’ 

“Then I shall hate you, Ezra Ttafton!” cried the 
angry girl. 

“Oh, no, you won’t. It’s my duty to capture this 
Yankee officer, and I mean to try. I shall bring him 
back alive — or dead. ’ ’ 

With these words, and a look that Bertha easily 
interpreted, he hurried to the road, called his men 
together, and the squad immediately started off across 
the fields at a high rate of speed. 


66 


THE PURSUIT AND RESULT. 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE PURSUIT AND RESULT. 

We took occasion to remark in the preceding chap- 
ter that there were a good many loyal adherents of 
the Southern cause who did not seem to be profound- 
ly impressed with Colonel Trafton’s personal valor. 

We may say right here that these same critics 
always claimed to be much mystified as to how the 
officer in question attained his rank. i 

Those who claimed to know, averred that it was 
all owing to the influence of ex-Senator McVane. 

Colonel Trafton and his five men spurred forward 
at a rapid pace. 

They were well mounted and armed. 

“Ah!” muttered the colonel, “if I can only over- 
take that fellow, I shall seize the opportunity of 
settling old scores for good and all. I can easily see 
that Bertha thinks more of him than she dares to ' 
confess. I feel he is a dangerous rival, in spite of the 
fact that he is a Yankee. ” ‘ ^ 

As the party reached the brow of a small hill, they 
had a good view of the road for some distance ahead. ' 

Not a quarter of a mile away, they saw a single 
horseman, in Union blue, trotting along the turnpike. 

“Forward, boys; there’s our man!” 

With a half-uttered cheer, they dashed at a break- 
neck pace down the gentle declivity and into the road. 

Captain Royal Chetwood heard the clatter of the 
horses’ hoofs when they struck the stony road. 

Turning in his saddle, he perceived the gray coats, 
and quickly discerned that he was in a ticklish posi- 
tion. 

Capture seemed almost certain. 


THE PUKSUIT AND RESULT. 


67 


However, he put spurs to his animal and dashed off. 

The wild yells of his pursuers told him that his en- 
emies felt sure of their prey. 

‘‘This is most unfortunate,” he said to himself. 
“I fear I shall have a long run for it now, unless they 
get in range and bring me or the horse down. It is 
fortunate they are without carbines.” 

For ten minutes more things were pretty evenly 
balanced. 

Half a mile ahead was a cross road, and Royal fan- 
cied he saw a detachment of cavalry coming down in 
that direction. 

If friends, he was safe ; if the enemy, of course the 
game was up. 

But now it was apparent that the Confederates in 
the rear were gaining upon him. 

Crack ! 

A pistol-ball whizzed by his head. 

“ Ah !” he exclaimed, “I must take a hand at this 
myself. I fancy my reputation as an expert will stand 
me in well now. ” 

With these words he drew his heavy revolver from 
the holster, and turning in his saddle, took deliberate 
aim at his leading pursuer. 

Crack ! 

The horseman threw up one hand convulsively, 
reeled in his saddle, and fell to the road, shot through 
the head. 

“One!” muttered the captain, grimly. 

A fearful yell attested the fierce anger of the Con- 
federates in the rear. 

Crack 1 crack I crack 1 

They were in deadly earnest now. 

But not a bullet reached its mark. 

Again Chetwood drew a rapid bead on the troop. 

Again a jet of smoke spurted out of the deadly tube. 

And again a Southerner dropped to the road, this 
time sorely wounded. 


68 


THE PURSUIT AND RESULT. 


Another wild yell greeted this performance. 

Another useless fusillade followed. 

“Two,’’ said the captain. “They are paying dear 
for this adventure. ” 

A third shot emptied a third saddle. 

Captain Chetwood was an unerring marksman. 

Had he been at all excited, it is more than probable 
that he would have missed his men. 

But he had long since learned how much depends 
on steadiness of nerve. 

A shot from Colonel Trafton’s revolver chipped a 
bit of leather out of Royal’s saddle, and slightly 
wounded his horse on the neck. 

“Here’s for number four!” 

Chetwood emptied the fourth chamber of his re- 
volver. 

This time the ball struck one of the horses squarely 
in the forehead. 

With a bound the animal pitched his rider into the 
ditch, and dropped, a quivering mass, upon the 
highway. 

Only two were left. 

Colonel Trafton and one subaltern. 

“He’s a devil with that weapon!” cried the man. 
“He seems to pick us off as easily as though we were 
puppets at a target range. It’s sure death, colonel ; 
we’d better let him go.” 

“Never!” exclaimed Trafton, whose natural cow- 
ardice was quite overshadowed by his intense vindic- 
tive feeling against the man he now regarded as his 
rival in love. 

The soldier, however, had no desire to go on record 
as a dead hero. 

He was no coward. 

But what avail is it to face sure death ? 

If his resolution to follow had faltered, a bullet 
furrowing a line of red across his cheek determined 
his course. 


THE PUBSUIT AND RESULT. 


69 


He swerved his horse around, and made off by the 
road he had come. 

Seeing but one man now coming upon him, and 
scorning to shoot him down in what seemed to him 
cold blood, Chetwood reined in his horse. 

“Fool,” he muttered, “he comes to his death !” 

The colonel dashed up and discharged his revolver 
at that range. 

But what effect can excited, tremulous nerves im- 
part to one’s aim. 

The bullet went wide of its mark. 

Indeed, Royal almost felt inclined to laugh, for he 
easily saw that the man was fairly beside himself. 

The colonel now drew his sabre. 

That was a challenge the captain accepted at once. 

They were but a few yards apart when Royal rec- 
ognized his opponent. 

“Trafton!” he exclaimed. 

“Ay, you scoundrel ! On your guard ! It is your life 
or mine !” 

“Be it so,” said the captain, “though I had rather 
engage with a stranger. ’ ’ 

“I owe you a long-standing grudge. Royal Chet- 
wood, and it will not be my fault if I foil to pay the 
score now.” 

“And I should be glad to avenge the injury you 
did my friend, were it not that war is too serious a 
matter to be used as a cover for the settlement of per- 
sonal feuds.” 

Their swords came together with a crash. 

The sunlight flashed upon the quivering blades. 

Parry and lunge it was, in quick succession. 

And here again Chetwood showed an immense su- 
periority over his antagonist, whose rage and hate 
alone had urged him to the encounter. 

Royal stood mostly on the defensive. 

He simply played with the colonel. 


70 


THE PUKSUIT AND RESULT. 


The horses moved responsive to the maniievres of 
their riders. 

Both were well trained to the service. 

“Curse you!” exclaimed Trafton, after another 
vain lunge. 

“Colonel, you’re in my power. I could have cut 
you down several times,” said Royal, coolly throwing 
aside another desperate stroke. “You cannot touch 
me in your present state of excitement. Desist and 
go your way. I have no wish to even wound you.” 

“Never!” yelled Trafton. “I shall kill you!” 

“You are wasting your strength to no purpose, 
colonel. Were 5^ou less furious, you could perceive 
that I’m immensely your superior with the sword. It 
is simply folly on your part. Draw off, ” he continued, 
impatiently, “or in self-defense I may seriously dis- 
able you!” 

But Trafton was insanely furious at his failure to 
even wound his antagonist, and consqeuently was be- 
yond the sense of reason. 

Chetwood had failed twice to disarm his antagonist 
with skillful twists of the sabres ; but now he saw he 
must settle the affray at once without further argu- 
ment. 

So he took the offensive at once, beat down Traf- 
ton ’s guard, pierced his wrist,' and thus caused him to 
drop his sword. 

The colonel now realized his extreme peril, and 
turned pale as death. 

But Royal never intended to follow up his advan- 
tage. 

He simply wheeled his horse about to dash away, 
when a quivering blast smote upon the air. 

It was the note of a bugle. 

The next moment a large party of mounted men 
dashed into the road ahead. 

They wore the Confederate gray ! 


WITHIN A NOOSE. 


71 


CHAPTER XIIL 

WITHIN A NOOSE. 

The moment Captain Clietwood heard that bugle 
blast and saw the gray uniform, he became alarmed 
for his personal safety. 

His own men were far in advance, and there was 
little chance for assistance coming to him now, from 
that quarter, at least. 

“Surrender, captain P’ cried Colonel Trafton. “You 
cannot now escape. ’ ’ 

Captain Chetwood believed that where there is life 
there is hope. 

He pulled back his horse suddenly, wheeled, and 
dashed away, much to the surprise of Colonel Trafton. 

“Halt, Yank!’» 

The impetuous captain did not halt, however. 

Then the woods and hills fairly rang with the re- 
port of carbines. 

A furious volley swept down the road. 

Captain Chetwood no longer rode in the distance. 

That volley had not been in vain. Union horse 
and rider were both down in the dust of the road. 

With a fierce yell, the gray troopers swept forward. 

Not a bullet had touched the Union captain, but 
his horse had been riddled. As the animal fell, the 
captain’s foot became entangled in the stirrup, and 
before he could extricate himself the Confederates 
were upon him. 

It would have been the height of folly to resist 
them — Captain Chetwood was not a fool, so he sub- 
mitted to the inevitable with the best grace possible. 

There were half a hundred of the troopers, mem- 


72 


WITHIN A NOOSE. 


bers of the notorious Mosby’s command, who had be- 
come separated from the main body, and were scour- 
ing the country in quest of plunder, while Mosby 
and his men were hanging about the rear of the ad- 
vancing Union army, seeking to capture and destroy 
Sheridan’s wagon trains. 

“You ought to have obeyed sooner,” said Colonel 
Trafton, as he bent from his saddle and peered into 
Captain Chetwood’s face. 

“I am satisfied if you are not,” was the blunt re- 
ply of the young officer. 

“Ah, I am glad so little makes you happy,” 
sneered Trafton. “If one of these trees should bear 
fruit, how would you feel then?” 

“Insensible at the last, I suppose.” 

“Quite right. ” 

The officer in command of the detachment saluted 
the colonel, whom he recognized. 

By virtue of his rank, Trafton now assumed 
authority on the spot. 

“To what branch of Sheridan’s command do you 
belong, sir?” demanded the colonel. 

“Torbert’s cavalry,” replied our hero, without be- 
traying the least trepidation at his desperate plight. 

“You are a dangerous man,” said Trafton, eying 
his prisoner vindictively. 

“Thank you for the compliment. ” 

“You seem to be a dead shot, from what I’ve seen 
to-day. ’ ’ 

“I seldom fail to hit my man.” 

“Why are you alone in this vicinity? 

“Simply because of circumstances.” 

“You are not telling the truth, sir.” 

Royal flushed angrily. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Simply what I say.” 

“I do not understand you.” 

“I think you will before I’ve done with you.” 


WITHIN A NOOSE. 


73 


The captain did not reply to this. 

■ “You have acted as a scout for Sheridan, have you 
not?” 

‘ ‘ Perhaps I have. ’ ’ 

“In a word, sir, you are a spy !” 

“You are wrong!” 

‘ ‘ I am satisfied you are. ’ ’ 

“I am not in a position to argue the matter,” said 
Royal, “but, nevertheless, I swear you are entirely 
wrong in such a declaration.” 

“The fate of a spy is death,” said the colonel, 
with a gleam of exultation in his eyes. 

“I must be proved to be such.” 

“We shall see. ” 

Colonel Trafton rode aside with the captain, and 
consulted with him for some minutes earnestly. 

“Perfectly right and proper, of course,” answered 
the captain, to a question from his superior. “If you 
have met this fellow before, and know that he has 
acted the spy, I see no reason why he should not 
suffer for it. ” 

“The Yankee general is making it hot for us in the 
valley just now, besides burning and destroying 
everything he can lay hands on.” 

“And you say this fellow has put to death some of 
our men?” 

“Yes; he shot four of my troopers a short time 
ago, and would have escaped but for your timely ap- 
pearance. 

“He is a desperate rascal, it appears, colonel,” said 
the officer. 

“He should be made an example of.” 

“I quite agree with you, colonel,” 

The two men then rode back to the command. 

Colonel Trafton dismounted and secured his horse 
to a sapling near by ; then he faced the prisoner. 

“Captain, we have been discussing your case.” 

“I surmised as much. Have you concluded to re- 


74 


WITHIN A NOOSE. 


lease me at once ; or am I to take the road to Rich- 
mond and a dungeon?” said Captain Chetwood, 
quickly. 

‘‘Neither. You are to adorn one of these trees,” 
was the grim response; 

“You do not mean that you would murder an un- 
armed man?” 

“No; I simply mean that I would hang a Union 
spy. ’ ’ 

“But I am not a Union spy.” 

“The criminal always denies his guilt,” sneered 
the colonel. “Sheridan is laying waste our beautiful 
valley, and murdering Southern citizens by whole- 
sale ; to hang one of his cut-throats is a pleasant duty 
I owe my country. ” 

“Your specious pleading is entirely unnecessary, 
sir,” retorted Captain Chetwood. “You have resolved 
upon committing murder, and try to still your con- 
science in this way. It will not do. You wear the 
uniform of the Confederacy, so called, and pretend to 
represent an honorable foe. But you have the in- 
stincts of a coward and a rebel. If you are a specimen 
of Southern chivalry, then God help the South! 
But ” 

“Stop!” hissed Colonel Trafton, becoming white 
with rage. “I will not be spit upon by a miserable 
Yankee spy. Colonel Trafton is not the one to for- 
give an insult. Boys, you will string this impudent 
mudsill to one of these trees. He is a spy, and de- 
serves to die. ’ ’ 

Among fifty men belonging to Mosby’s celebrated 
gang, a rope would not be hard to find. 

Among the horses bestrode by the rebel band were 
many rope halters, and several of these were at once 
brought into requisition. 

A broad Virginian oak was selected to act the part 
of scaffold on this occasion. 

Captain Chetwood stood with folded arms regarding 


WITHIN A NOOSE. 


75 


the ominous preparations, his face pale, yet not a 
muscle of that handsome countenance twitching with 
fear. 

He had faced death on many battle-fields without 
flinching. Why should he tremble now? 

It was not the death he expected to die, if die he 
must, when he turned his back on his boyhood’s 
home amid the everlasting hills of the Keystone State, 
and faced the Southern bars, to battle for the preser- 
vation of the Union and the old flag. 

Father, mother, and sister had bidden him good-by 
with fond tears at parting with their only boy ; but 
not of regret at the step he had taken, even though 
he should fall a victim to the bullet of treason. 

But to die in that ignominious way was not what 
the young patriot had counted on. 

“Colonel Trafton!” 

The officer turned his dark face toward the speaker 
a frown settling over his countenance. 

“Well, sir, I will hear what you have to say if you 
are only quick about it. ” 

Captain Chetwood raised his arm and pointed at 
the sun, which glowed in the hot Southern sky. 

“Colonel Trafton, that sun will rise for an hour, 
then go down, until in a few hours it will sink in dark- 
ness in the west. Your Confederacy has risen, passed 
its meridian, and is now far down the western hori- 
zon of its existence. After fighting nearly four years 
for the flag you follow, will you stain its folds, your 
own name forever, by committing a wicked and 
causeless crime? If you have a mother — a wife ’’ 

“S’death!” thundered the colonel at this point. 
“You have said enough, upstart. If you were Sheri- 
dan himself I would hang you.” 

“’Tis well,” uttered the cool young captain. “Re- 
member, however, that you may one day stand as I 
do now. Torbert will not spare you then. Your crime 
will follow you, and the blood of an innocent man 


76 


“LOYAL MOSE.” 


cry aloud for vengeance. I have no more to say ; do 
your work, traitor and coward that you are.” 

An oath, round and deep, fell from the lips of Col- 
onel Ezra Trafton. 

“We have had quite enough of this Yankee’s im- 
pudence,” he cried. “String him up, boys, and then 
we will be on the move.” 

The noosed rope was hung over the Union cap- 
tain’s head. 

“Remember, this will only add to your punishment 
hereafter, ” uttered the doomed man, as he felt the 
hangman’s noose tighten under his ear. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

‘ ‘ LOYAL MOSE. ’ ’ 

Colonel Trafton had not made a confidant of his 
victim, else the young Union captain would have 
better understood why the Confederate colonel wished 
to dispose of him. 

The reader, of course, knows there was a woman 
in the case. 

That woman was Bertha McVane. 

The colonel understood well enough that the out- 
rage he was about to perpetrate was entirely without 
excuse. 

That it was not in his country’s cause, but to 
minister to his own private ends that he was about to 
put the gallant officer to a terrible death. 

Even were the charge true that Chetwood was a 
spy, the regulations of the service required that he 
should at least have the benefit of a military trial. 

To hang him without that formality was assuming 
a responsibility no man in his cool senses would have 
dared. 

Not even Mosby himself, who was generally cred- 


“LOYAL MOSE.’ 


77 


ited with making a short shift with many of his pris- 
oners, would have justified such an outrageous action. 

Colonel Trafton, however, had no qualms of con- 
science in the matter. 

He desired this man’s death above all things. 

As he could not shoot him down in his tracks, he 
seized upon a despicable pretext to cover the act of 
vengeance. 

He feared that his rival might escape, and sooner 
than take that risk he took the law into .his own 
hands. 

It clearly showed the cowardly, villainous side of 
his character. 

* ‘ Pull away, boys ! ’ ’ 

It was the colonel’s voice that rang through the 
woods. 

Captain Chetwood realized, as the rope tightened 
about his throat, that his doom was sealed. 

“Good-by, old flag — good-by, Bertha!” 

Then Royal Chetwood was dangling in the air. 

“Thus be it with all Yankees.” 

Spang ! 

Captain Chetwood came to the ground in a heap. 

If he was not dead, the foremost hangman was. 

A bullet had sped to the guerrila’s heart, and his 
sudden release of the rope let Colonel Trafton ’s vic- 
tim down on the run. 

Other hands were on the rope, but the death of 
their comrade caused a panic, and the sudden relax- 
ing of the rope. 

Spang I — spang ! 

Bright flashes startled the birds from their perches, 
and the sharp crack of rifles echoed like the knell of 
doom in the ears of the startled Confederate troop. 

“To horse I” screamed Colonel Trafton, in a parox- 
ysm of fear, at the same time bounding to the side of 
his own steed, and in his haste not waiting to untie 
the halter, severing it with a blow from his sword. 


78 


‘LOYAL MOSE.’ 


“Charge, boys! No quarter to Mosby’s troopers!” 

It was a ringing command. 

The woods seemed to quake under the rapid dis- 
charge of rifles, and Confederate troopers fell like 
grain before the reaper’s scythe. ' 

Then came the rush of a body of Unionists on foot, 
firing as they advanced. 

The Confederate troop scattered and fled precipi- 
tately. 

“Hurrah !” 

A young man, clad in rusty blue, sprang into the 
road and raised the poor captain in his arms. Forty 
men followed at his back. 

“Good heavens! Royal Chetwood, is it you?” 

“Yes,” gasped the captain, tearing at the noose, 
which the young man quickly relieved him of. “Who 
are you ?’ ’ 

“Don’t you know me. Royal?” 

“Mose, is it possible?” 

They clasped hands fervently. 

“Thank God, I came in time.” 

“Yes,” replied Royal, feebly, “it was touch and 
go with me.” 

This was the first meeting between the two friends 
since they parted at Richmond after the battle of 
Bull Run. 

“How glad I am to see you again, Royal,” said 
the young man, enthusiastically. 

“And I you, my dear friend. Once more I owe my 
life to you. ” 

“There; say no more about it. That it was my 
good fortune to do so is a joy beyond expression.” 

“You are truly a friend in need. Where have you 
been all these years of the war?” 

“Always well — and always on the move. I’ll ex- 
plain everything some other time. But tell me the 
meaning of this terrible outrage.” 

“I can only assign it to personal enmity. I was ad- 


“LOYAL MOSE.’ 


79 


judged a spy, and without even the formality of a 
trial, was strung up as you saw. ’’ 

“Who was in command of this Confederate troop ?’^ 

“A scoundrel — Colonel Trafton. ” 

The new-comer’s face grew dark suddenly. 

‘ ‘ Colonel Trafton — Ezra Trafton ? He is the man I 
long to meet in open fight. I have vainly sought 
him ; but the time will yet come when I hope to see 
him swing from the end of a rope.” 

, “He amply deserves such an end,” said Captain 
Chetwood, “after this outrage, for which he had not 
the faintest excuse. ’ ’ 

“The wrong he did my poor sister cries out for 
justice. He cannot escape a brother’s vengeance. 
Heaven would not permit such a villain to escape the 
penalty of his misdeeds. He is a murderer in the 
sight of God. Would I had known it was that wretch 
who was in command here!” 

“Where are your horses?” said Royal. 

“Couldn’t get up quietly enough, so we left the 
animals back in the gulch, and came on foot. One 
of ouj boys was out on a raid and brought news of the 
presence of a Confederate troop, and of a prisoner. I 
little supposed that prisoner was Captain Chetwood. 
Why are you here? I supposed all of the regulars 
were with Sheridan, who is pushing Early hotly.” 

“Yes; Sheridan has given the enemy little rest 
lately. He is rushing them up the valley at a great 
rate. I mean to rej(yin my command, and let this con- 
founded scouting business go. I don’t care to burn 
barns and houses; it’s too barbarous.” 

“It does seem so, captain; but it is necessary some- 
times. We must retaliate, or loose the respect of all 
men,” answered “Eoyal Mose, ” for thus had the 
young Virginian been dubbed by his friends and 
neighbors. 

“Mose, the traitor” was what Southern sympa- 
thizers called the young Union ranger, and woe be 


80 


‘LOYAL MOSE.” 


unto him should he chance to fall into their hands — 
especially the hands of Mosby or any of his men. 

“I expect to join Sheridan to-day,” said Bluff, 
after a few minutes’ reflection. “Early will make a 
stand at Fisher’s Hill, I think. There’s to be a big 
fight, and I am bound to participate.” 

“And, I too!” cried Captain Chetwood, quickly. 
“My horse is dead, and ” 

“Come with nfe. I will furnish you another. 
Arms yon can get from these and a slender fore- 
finger was pointed at the fallen gray-coats near. 

Captain Chetwood acted on the suggestion of his 
young friend, and soon placed himself in possession of 
a brace of revolvers and a good sabre. 

By this time the Unionists were returning, having 
given up the pursuit of the mounted Confederates. 

“If we had been mounted we might have scooped the 
whole lot,” said “Eoyal Mose;” “but I am satisfied 
for the present. I may meet Colonel Trafton at 
Fisher’s Hill, and settle old scores on the field of bat- 
tle. I hope so, at least. I have nothing to live for but 
revenge, and to strike honest blows for the old flag. 
Ah ! how strange it seems to me. Royal that men — 
Americans — can enroll themselves under any other 
banner than the Stars and Stripes. I was born on Vir- 
ginia soil, but I do not forget that this is the State of 
Washington, Captain Chetwood.” 

“Most certainly. ” 

“And Virginia has turned her back upon his 
memory. Ah I if Washington was here to-day he 
would shed a tear over the departed patriotism of his 
native State, and then he would lift the sword to 
smite her for her folly. I am blushing every day, 
captain, at the indignity the mother of presidents has 
inflicted on her firstborn. I fed like doing something 
desperate — indeed, I do.” 

“It will come right in the end, Moses,” answered 
the captain. 


‘LOYAL MOSE.‘ 


81 


‘‘I hope so — I am confident it will.’’ 

Deep and smothered were the words of the young 
patriot, showing that he felt them — every one ; they 
were the honest convictions of his soul. 

It was something to stand true to the Union in 
those days, even in Virginia ; the State that wit 
nessed the hanging of John Brown, which was but a 
prelude to the coming strife, witnessed the throttling 
of the civil struggle also — the finale to four years of 
blood. 

No; “Ivoyal Mose” was brave as he was true to the 
flag of Washington. He had stepped forth from a 
ruined home to lift high the Stars and Stripes, and 
carry it forward to final victory ; and he was but one 
of many the war for the Union produced. 

“If you choose, you may ride with us to join Sher- 
idan,” said Bluff, after his men had all returned 
and stood in groups under the trees. 

“I accept your offer, Moses, and will ride with 
you,” was Captain Chetwood’s answer. 

The dead were left where they had fallen. It was 
not safe to remain to perform the burial service, since 
Mosby might pounce down upon that spot at any mo- 
ment. 

Back to their horses went the squad of Virginia 
rangers, and soon Captain Chetwood found himself 
riding beside “Uoyal Mose” down one of Virginia’s 
flinty roads, sometimes under the silent arches of the 
wood, then again out into open fields, where all 
seemed smiling peace and plenty. 

The distant roar of guns, however, announced the 
truth ; peace did not reign supreme. 


82 


FISHER’S HILL. 


CHAPTER XV. 
fisher’s hill. 

It was on the fifteenth of September that General 
Grant left City Point to visit Sheridan at his head- 
quarters and consult with him on future work in the 
Shenandoah Valley. 

At Charlestown the two generals met, and Sheri- 
dan soon made plain to the commander the true situ- 
ation in the valley. 

Grant, after hearing Sheridan’s plans and approv- 
ing them, asked if he could be ready to move the fol- 
lowing Tuesday. 

“Yes,” replied the latter, “by Monday;” and be- 
fore daylight that morning the army was in motion. 

By three o’clock in the afternoon it was drawn up 
in line of battle, in front of the rebel position at, 
Opequon Creek, and as soon as the cavalry, under 
Torbert, arrived at the desired point on the extreme 
Confederate right, Sheridan ordered a general ad- 
vance. 

The artillery opened along the whole line — the 
columns moved steadily forward, and Early soon dis- 
covered that Sheridan was in earnest. 

His position, however, was a strong one, and he 
stubbornly held it until Averill’s and Merritt’s bugles 
were heard on his right, as the firm-set squadrons 
bore fiercely down. 

Rolled up before the impetuous charge, the South- 
ern line at length crumbled into fragments, and the 
whole army broke in utter confusion and went stream- 
ing up the valley toward Winchester. 

Through Winchester the enemy were driven. 


FISHER’S HILL. 


83 


Several thousand prisoners were captured, and the 
rebel dead and wounded were left in Union hands. 

Early was absolutely stupefied at the shock. 

This was not the fighting he had been accustomed 
to, nor ever would be. 

Great credit is undoubtedly due to Sheridan’s sub- 
ordinates ; but Sheridan was the life of the entire bat- 
tle, and gave the foe a taste of his quality, which he 
expected his own troops to follow in the future. 

Early lost thirty-five hundred killed and wounded, 
five thousand prisoners, some guns and fifteen battle- 
flags. Three of his generals were killed and four 
wounded. 

Not only was Early driven through Winchester, 
but he was sent “whizzing up the valley,” so vigor- 
ously pursued that he did not make a stand until he 
reached Fisher’s Hill, thirty miles beyond. 

Hike a tiger let loose, Sheridan was hurling himself 
upon the foe. 

The enemy were completely dum founded at the 
rapidity of his movements, and quite panic-stricken 
for the time. 

At Fisher’s Hill, Early posted his retiring and 
beaten army in a strong position, and here resolved 
to hold the fort and turn back the sweeping tide if 
possible. 

Fisher’s Hill is not put down on the pages of his- 
tory as a victory for the Confederates. The gray- 
coats were destined to suffer another humiliation as 
the invincible Sheridan moved on their works. 

The firing which had greeted the ears of our 
friends, mentioned in the first chapter was from 
Sheridan’s artillery, which was merely feeling the 
enemy’s position during the early part of the day. 

Early was strongly footed, and believed that the 
disgraceful retreat of the past few days would be re- 
trieved in a substantial victory. 

Captain Chetwood and “Eoyal Mose” reached the 


84 


FISHER’S HILL. 


right of the Union army, which was then moving into 
position for flanking the Confederates. 

Moses Bluff joined Averill, and was soon engaged 
in driving in the enemy’s skirmishers, which was but 
the prelude to the coming contest for the mastery. 

Clietwood was soon with his own command under 
the lead of Crook. 

This general was marching for the purpose of a 
flanking movement, while Averill made the front 
warm for a time, which held Early’s attention until 
Crook could execute his grand movement. 

Tramp, tramp, tramp. 

A great army of blue-coats went filing into the 
woods, over rugged hills, and through level stretches, 
the goal of their desires being Early’s left flank. 

The day had dawned with the sullen boom of can- 
non. It was to go out in the crash of battle and roar 
of musketry. 

Phil Sheridan, the gallant hero of a score of bat- 
tles, was not yet to be checked in his onward march 
up the beautiful valley of the Shenandoah. 

On pressed the veterans of Opequon, approaching 
nearer and nearer the goal. 

The army of Sheridan was now on the move from 
wing to wing. 

Crook was swinging around the hills on the right ; 
Wright, with the Sixth Corps, moved to the assault 
in the centre, and Emory, with the Nineteenth, on 
the left. 

A grand advance along the whole line. 

Forward pressed Crook’s veterans, elated with their 
late victories, and anxious to start the enemy once 
' more whirling up the valley. 

Soon puffs of smoke rose along the slopes. 

Then came a sudden jar. 

The fight for Fisher’s Hill had opened. 

“Forward, boysl” 


/ 


FISHER’S HILL. 


85 


With drawn sword, Captain Chetwood rode at the 
front. 

The gray-coats, their intrenchments, and their guns 
were visible now. 

The flank movement was a success, and with a 
cheer that echoed over the hills, the brave boys in 
blue dashed forward upon the astounded enemy. 

Simultaneously with Crook’s attack, canie the 
sound of battle on the left and centre. 

“Hurrah! We have them on the hip now!” cried 
Captain Chetwood. 

Almost on the instant his horse reeled and plunged 
to the ground. 

The rider was unhurt. 

Once more on his feet, Chetwood led his men for- 
ward into the roaring vortex of battle. 

The shock of battle was terrific. 

Men fell on every hand, brave soldiers of the 
North ; yet, not a soul faltered, but onward pressed 
through raining shot and shell. 

“Hurrah !” 

The ringing Northern cheer welled out far and 
wide, and echoed above the roar and crash of arms. 

It was the first note of victory, and but a faint cry 
was sent back in answer, a defiant Southern yell, that 
was soon smothered, and went back to sleep under 
the roar of the Yankee guns. 

. “Hurrah!” 

Again that shout, as the gray ranks reeled. 

Death shots flew thick and fast. 

A stinging pain in his shoulder announced to Cap- 
tain Chetwood the fact that he had been hit, how 
badly hurt he had not time to ascertain at that 
hour. 

Swinging his sword, the brave young captain held 
his place and led on his men. 

The Confederates were going back. 

Flag after flag went down. 


86 


FISHEE’S HILL. 


They were breaking in disorder on the right. 

Guns, knapsacks, and even canteens were flung 
aside, and the opening of a grand panic was apparent. 

The centre and left still held their ground, disput- 
ing with tenacity the bloody slope. 

Still those grav clad veterans could not hold the 
hill. 

For three days they had been fleeing before a vic- 
torious foe, and they were disheartened. 

“They yield. Forward, boys, and capture the 
guns!” 

It was the cry of Captain Chetwood, 'as he dashed 
over the fallen gray-coats in front, and pushed to the 
side of a cannon. 

The Unionists pressed on, sweeping all before 
them. 

The Southern flag was swept from the field. 

Early was utterly dumfounded. 

Was there no staying Eittle PhiPs troops? Of 
what were they made ? 

Along the front the enemy fared even worse than 
on the left, where Crook’s veterans were at them. 

The Sixth Corps broke through, cutting in twin 
the Confederate army. 

Emory was dashing against the right wing of Ear- 
ly’s forces. Crook the left, while Wright burst the 
centre, aiid the whole disordered host was soon 
broken into fragments, and routed at every point. 

Fisher’s Hill was won 1 

The fight had been of brief duration. 

“Forward, boys!” 

With a ringing shout the boys in blue dashed for- 
ward in pursuit of the fleeing gray -coats. 

“Victory — victory — victory !” 

The glad cry rang out on every hand, and once 
more the beaten hosts of the South went back in wild 
and hopeless rout, utteringly overwhelmed. 

Captain Chetwood was gallantly leading his men 


THE CONFEDERATE’S LASt SHOT. 


87 


in the advance, when an earthquake seemed to shake 
the ground. 

Blue lights filled the young Federal’s vision, and 
then darkness came, whelming everything. 

Captain Chetwood lay bleeding and insensible on 
the ground. 


CHAPTER XVL 

THH confederate’s EAST SHOT. 

Riding at the head of nearly a hundred bronzed 
veterans, Moses Bluff seemed the very incarnation of 
battle. 

Yet he was young, but just turned twenty, four 
years the junior of his friend. Captain Royal Chet- 
wood. 

Smarting under the wrongs that called for redress, 
the young Virginian seemed to grow in years, in 
power and strength with the occasion. 

He had never failed the brave mountaineers whom 
he led, never exhibited aught but the grandest cour- 
age on every field where battle clashed, and blue and 
gray struggled for the mastery. 

On this occasion at 'Fisher’s Hill, the young moun- 
taineer was at the front of the strife, and led his men 
into the most awful dangers with the coolness of one 
used to strife on the bloody battle-fields. 

‘‘I may meet Colonel Trafton,” argued the youth. 
“If I do, he or I must die.” 

This was uttered with clinched teeth and frowning 
brow. 

When the enemy’s lines broke, then the cavalry 
was brought into requisition, and sent in pursuit of 
the fleeing legions. 

“Now then, give them Jesse!” shouted “Foyal 
Mose,” with his &ight sword flourishing aloft, as he 


88 THE CONFEDERATE’S LAST SHOT. 

struck spurs to his gallant steed, and led the way into 
the fleeing mass of beaten men. 

Sabres gleamed, pistols cracked, and the bloody 
drama went on. 

From Fisher’s Hill the rebels were soon rushing 
in mad retreat. 

Artillery, horses, wagons, rifles, knapsacks, and 
canteens were abandoned in their precipitate flight. 

The defeat was a disastrous rout indeed. 

Many prisoners and sixteen pieces of artillery fell 
into' Union hands. 

“Loyal Mose” and his “tigers” did not follow up 
the retreating host beyond a few miles. 

Back to the field of strife they made their way, a 
good looking body of cavalry indeed. 

Mose was looking for Captain Chetwood. 

The Pennsylvanian and young Virginian were like 
Damon and Pythias, and now that the strife was over, 
Bluff was anxious about the safety of his comrade. 

It was dark when he found the captain’s regiment, 
only to learn that the brave captain was among the 
missing. 

“Have you searched the field?” questioned “Loyal 
Mose.” 

“We have — he is not there,” was the reply. 

“Then he must be a prisoner.” 

“Hardly,” answered the lieutenant whom Mose 
was questioning. “I don’t think the Johnnies cared 
to take prisoners with them. They made rather rapid 
movements, if you remember.” 

“If you will point out the place where your regi- 
ment fought, I will look over the field,” said “Loyal 
Mose. ” 

The lieutenant being garrulous, soon went over the 
whole field, and pointed in glowing colors to the 

daring heroism of the boys belonging to the th 

regiment. 

“Loyal Mose” was patience itself on occasions, but 


THE CONFEDERATE’S LAST SHOT. ’ 89 

to-niglit he had a nervous feeling all over, and left the 
lieutenant, descanting to the empty air, early in the 
narrative, to look for his missing friend. 

Leaving his horse in charge of one of his men, 
Moses made his way over the bloody field on foot. 

“Halloo!” 

A voice came to the young mountaineer through 
the gloom. The voice sounded strangely familiar. 

Quickly Moses made his way forward. 

“Where are you?” 

He paused to ask the question at length. 

“Here. Is that you, Moses?” 

It was the voice of Captain Chetwood, and the Vir- 
ginia ranger was soon at the captain’s side. 

“Are you badly hurt, Royal?” questioned the 
youth, as he discovered Chetwood reclining on the 
ground near a cannon. 

“No, just stunned a bit. But I’m wedged in under 
some of these bodies.” 

Quickly Moses Bluff sprang to the side of his friend 
and extricated him from his position. The captain, it 
proved, had only been stunned by a fragment of 
shell, and was now scarcely the worse for his fall. His 
sword lay near, and seeing this, the Union captain 
was, like Richard of old, himself again. 

“Where are the Confederates?” asked Chetwood, 
as he stood leaning on his sword in the gloom. 

“Fled like frightened sheep,” answered Moses, 
with a low laugh. 

“Yes, I remember; they were running when I fell. 
You came out unscathed, it seems.” 

“Entirely so. ” 

A slight sound to the left caused the two men to 
glance in that direction. It was a groan or an oath 
from a wounded soldier. 

“Take that, you Yankee dog!” 

The red flash of a pistol was almost simultaneous 
with its ringing report. 


90 THE CONFEDERATE’S LAST SHOT. 

“Ah ! oh, my God !” 

“Loyal Mose’’ reeled, and would have fallen but for 
Captain Chet wood, who caught the sinking form in 
his arms. 

‘ ‘ Moses — Moses ! you are hit ! ’ ’ 

“Mortally hurt, I fear,” was the reply of the loyal 
mountaineer, in a husky whisper. 

Quickly Captain Chetwood bore his friend to a lit- 
tle knoll and laid him on the grass. 

“I will go for a surgeon,” said the captain, gently. 

“No — no! I shall die while you are gone. What — 
who was it fired?” 

“A wounded Confederate, I think. I will find out. ” 

Captain Chetwood sprang up. 

Then he bethought him of the condition of young 
Bluff, and bent quickly over him once more. 

Tearing the clothing from the wound, the captain 
tore up bits of the ranger’s shirt, and with the rags 
attempted to stanch the flow of blood. 

He succeeded, too, in a little time. 

“How do you feel, Moses?” 

“Better. Perhaps the wound is not so bad after 
all.” 

“It is not mortal, at any rate,” answered the cap- 
tain. “A wound through the shoulder is not neces- 
sarily so. ’ ’ 

“I shall get up again, then!” cried Moses. “I 
could not die now, with my wrongs unavenged — it 
would not be right. ” 

“No, you will live to fight this war through,” an- 
swered Captain Chetwood. “I have a premonition 
that the end is not far off. ’ ’ 

“The end of the war?” 

“Yes, Moses. The South is hard pressed for men, 
now, and, ere many months, the old flag will float un- 
challenged from Maine to California — from the Lakes 
to the Gulf.” 

“I hope so,” groaned the wounded ranger. 


THE CONFEDERATE’S LAST SHOT. 91 

After seeing to the young man’s comfort, Captain 
Clietwood went to look up the assassin. 

The gloom rendered his task not a pleasant or a 
certain one. 

He remembered the spot from whence he had seen 
the bright flash, and approached it cautiously, not 
caring to become himself the target for a shot. 

His caution was not necessary on this occasion. 

Captain Chetwood always carried matches on his 
person, inclosed in a water-proof safe. 

From this he extracted one of the lucifers and ig- 
nited it on his clothing, then held it over his head. 

The sight that met the gaze of the Union captain 
was one that sent a thrill to his heart. 

Wedged in between several dead Confederates was 
stretched the body of a tall man, an officer, as there 
was the insigna on his collar. 

His head had fallen back now against the body of 
a comrade, the eyes wide open, and glassy. 

The lower jaw had fallen, the whole face disfigured 
by a hideous grin that in death was terribly 
realistic. 

The dead man’s right arm was extended across a 
dead body, the long, bony fingers clutching, with the 
tenacity of death, a five-chambered revolver. 

From this the bullet had been fired which laid 
Moses low, and came near terminating his life. 

It was the last act of a dying man. 

Captain Chetwood shuddered as he gazed. 

The match soon burned out, and darkness once more 
whelmed the scene ; but, while he lived, the Union 
captain would not forget the sight he witnessed that 
night after the memorable fight on Fisher’s Hill. 

The hand of the dead had fired a shot that came 
near to the life of one of Virginia’s bravest sons. 

With the expiring blaze. Captain Chetwood arose 
to his feet — he had been crouching— and hurried back 
once more to the side of his wounded friend. , 


92 


THE WOUNDED SOLDIEE. 


^‘Did you find the villain who fired questioned 
the wounded ranger, eagerly. 

“I did.” 

“Who was it?” 

“An officer,” answered the captain. “He is dead 
now, and will do no more harm to the Union’s de- 
fenders. ” 


CHAPTER XVIL 

THE WOUNDED SOLDIER. 

The defeat of Early at Pisher’s Hill was a complete 
rout — a headlong flight on his part. 

Sheridan pushed on to Woodstock, where he halted 
to get his supplies up. 

Averill, however, kept up the pursuit to Mount 
Jackson, twenty-five miles south of Strasburg. 

Here Early rallied his broken battalions, and once 
more turned at bay. 

But on Sheridan’s arrival he again retreated, though 
stubbornly contesting every inch of ground, and at 
last made a determined stand in Brown’s Gap on the 
Blue Ridge, eight miles south-east of Port Republic. 

Sheridan pursued as far as this place, and halted. 

In the meantime, Torbert, with his cavalry, moved 
on Staunton and Waynesboro, destroying bridges, 
government property, and everything that could be 
of benefit to the enemy. 

Early’s position was too strong to be carried by as- 
sault, while it seriously threatened Sheridan’s flank, 
should he attempt to march on Eynchburg — the goal 
• of all the expeditions up the Shenandoah Valley. 

Unless Early could be driven from Brown’s Gap, 
it would be madness to advance farther. 

Besides, his supplies in the rear were in danger of 
being cut off by Mosby, and he, therefore, resolved to 
fall back. 


THE WOUNDED SOLDIEE. 


93 


It was on the day following the defeat at Fisher’s 
Hill that a small party of Unionists halted in front of 
Orvin Clymore’s red farm-house. 

In their midst, on a stretcher, they bore a wounded 
man. 

Mr. Clymore came out to learn the cause of this 
visit, when he was addressed by Captain Chetwood, 
who was with the party. 

“Can you care for a wounded man — a native Vir- 
ginian, who was badly hurt in yesterday’s fight?” 

“Would like to oblige you, but it is simply impos- 
sible, ’ ’ answered the farmer. 

“I understand ” 

“Why don’t you take the fellow to the hospital?” 

“Simply because he refuses to go where so many 
are dying. He is a friend of mine, and I thought it no 
harm to apply to you. Your trouble shall be well re- 
warded, and the presence of a Unionist in your house 
may be of service to you now, since Sheridan is mas- 
ter of the valley. ’ ’ 

“The Federals won a victory yesterday, then?” 
cried the farmer, quickly. 

“A good one. Farly’s troops are dispersed. It is 
doubtful if the rebellion ever holds up its head in the 
Shenandoah Valley again.” 

The farmer seemed dejected at the news. 

At this moment Bertha McVane came out to the 
road, and catching view of the wan, white face of the 
wounded man, her womanly sympathies were at once 
enlisted. 

He was Captain Chetwood ’s friend, too, and that 
was an additional reason why she chimed in with the 
captain’s urgent appeal. 

The farmer yielded somewhat ungracefully, and 
Moses Bluff was taken to the farm-house, and up 
into an airy chamber in the second story. 

He was laid upon a clean white bed. 

His wound was attended to, as best it could be, by 


94 


THE WOUNDED SOLDIER. 


the captain, who then parted from his friend, leaving 
encouraging words behind. 

“Bertha,’^ said Royal, when he rejoined the young 
lady below, “I rely upon you to see that your patient 
has the best of care. I ask it for old time’s sake. 
He is a dear friend, and worthy of all that can be 
done in his behalf.” 

“You may rely on me,” she said, quietly. 

“I thank you. ” 

“You need not. The South does not war on 
wounded men.” 

“He will not trouble you long as his wound is not 
a dangerous one. But, nevertheless, it requires atten- 
tion. ” 

“Were he my brother, he could not be better 
nursed. I like his face. It is the face of an honest, 
noble-hearted young man. I regret he is not on our 
side. ” 

“He is a brave patriot. ” 

“A Virginian, I think you said?” 

“Yes.” 

“I like him the better for that, though I grieve to 
think him an enemy. ” 

“You must combat your uncle’s prejudices against 
him. ” 

“I will try; but Uncle Orvin is very set in his 
opinions. At any rate, he is quite safe with us. ’ ’ 

“I trust so; but may I ask one question?” 

“A dozen, if you wish,” she said, curiously. 

“I have learned that Colonel Trafton, whom I first 
met in Charleston, occasionally pays you a visit. Am 
I right?” 

“Yes,” she said, with a flush. 

“Then I wish to say that it would be extremely 
unfortunate if the colonel and my friend up stairs 
were to meet.” 

“Why?” she said, in great surprise. 

“The reason I may not tell you. All I can say is 


THE WOUNDED SOLDIER, 


95 


that the enmity existing between these two would 
lead to most unpleasant consequences should they 
come face to face. ” 

“You amaze me. ’’ 

“I rely on you, Bertha, if you would prevent actual 
bloodshed, keep them apart. Do not let the colonel 
see this man. ’ ’ 

“Well, this is very strange,” she said, “but I will 
do as you say. ’ ’ 

“Again I thank you from my heart.” 

“Did you see anything of the colonel in the late 
battle?” 

“No. I fancy from what I know of the man, that 
he would not care to risk his personal safety much in 
such stirring scenes as we had of late. ’ ’ 

“Do you mean to insinuate that Colonel Trafton is 
a coward, sir?” 

She spoke hotly now, much to the captain’s sur- 
prise. 

“Well, perhaps that would be the plainest terms I 
could apply to a man whose actions I have unfortu- 
nately had occasion to discover in their worst aspect. ’ ’ 

“You insult me. Captain Chetwood!” 

There was no mistaking her indignant attitude now. 

“Insult you, Bertha? I hope not.” 

“But you do, sir, when you apply such an epithet 
to Colonel Trafton. ’ ’ 

“I beg your pardon, but I was not aware you en- 
tertained such a strong interest in that person,” said 
Royal, more than ever astonished. 

“Then, sir, I must inform you that Colonel Traf- 
ton is my intended husband. 

If a shell had exploded in the room at that mo- 
ment, the gallant Union officer could not have been 
more staitled. 

He was fairly thunderstruck. 

“You — you, Bertha, engaged to that ” 


96 


THE WOUNDED SOLDIER. 


He was about to say scoundrel, but checked him- 
self. 

“Bertha, is this the truth?” 

“Itis, sir. ” 

He was as pale as death now. 

Not only his own hopes, to which he had still clung 
like a drowning man to a straw, were scattered to 
the winds, but the woman lie loved better than life 
itself was to be the wife of the meanest villain on 
earth. 

It was too much, and he fairly groaned aloud. 

She saw his agony, and for the first time endured 
it with an apathetic face. 

He had wounded her in a tender place, and for the 
moment almost despised him. 

Ah, if she had only known the truth ! 

With an effort. Royal recovered his self-possession. 

The dream was ended, then ? 

Well, so be it. 

“Bertha, I congratulate you on your — choice.” 

Without another word he turned from her, and 
passed from the room and the house. 

Mounting his horse, he rode away, followed by the 
squad that had brought the wounded ranger to the 
Clymore farm-house. 

Two hours later, Bertha McVane sat fanning the 
wounded soldier who lay sleeping quietly. 

Bertha watched his face, noted the pale, high brow, 
the straight, rather prominent nose, with its trem- 
bling nostril, the heavy lashes, and abundant black 
masses of hair that lay back in waves from his fore- 
head. The mouth, with its rather full lips, curved 
like a woman’s — a mouth, gentle and kissable, Bertha 
thought — almost a mere boy withal, and such as he 
in battle, bearing up the flag of the Union. 

lyittle did she dream that this young man was one 
of the terrors of the valley — the invincible “Uoyal 


THE WOUNDED SOLDIER. 


97 


Mose,’’ of whom she had heard frightful stones that 
had sent the blood receding to her heart 

Mose Bluff awoke at length, and a smile that beau- 
tified his boyish face, swept over it, as he looked into 
the black orbs of the girl who sat beside his couch. 

“I thought it all a dream, ” he said. “I am surely 
awake now, and this is no dream ; you are real flesh 
and blood, miss, and I am at home.” 

“You will be well cared for here,” said Bertha. 
“Your friend has gone to participate in other battles. ’ ’ 

“Captain Chetwood?” 

“Yes; he brought you here — you must remember!” 

“I do, but I did not know you were here. What 
house is this? I thought I was at home — my old home 
under the shadow of the hill, where he came and de- 
stroyed all. First Mary, then mother and father. 
They died from grief at poor sister’s sad fate. She 
followed the man she loved, the villain who deceived 
her, then cast her off, and — and she died. Father and 
mother died heart-broken — they lay side by side 
under the grass beside a mountain brook, and I, the 
last one left, I am on his trail, seeking to avenge poor 
Mary.” 

A red tinge grew in the cheeks of the sufferer, and 
Bertha believed that fever was coming, and she cau- 
tioned him not to talk too much, even though she 
was interested in his story. 

“Well, I was a fool!” uttered the boy, bluntly, “to 
speak of my ruined home at all ; but that’s the way 
when I get to thinking it over. ” 

“Don’t think of it now,” ordered Bertha. 

“I won’t,” was the submissive reply, and he closed 
his eyes and tried to sleep once more. 


98 


AT THE POINT OF THE SWORD. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

AT THE POINT OF THE SWORD. 

A week passed. 

Moses Bluff improved rapidly, his wound proving 
to be of a nature that was quick to heal. He was able 
to sit up now, and accepted the ministrations of his 
fair nurse with a smile of pleasure. 

In this time these two had grown to be friends — 
this terrible Union ranger and fair Southern rebel. 

Bertha was still a bitter little fire-eater, but be- 
tween her and Bluff, politics had been discussed only 
in a temperate manner. 

“Some Southerners may feel that they are right in 
this war. I will not condemn all,’^ the youth was 
wont to say. “Your uncle and aunt have been very 
kind to me, and I am willing to concede pure motives 
to such as they. ’ ’ 

The boom of guns and crack of conflict . had not 
been heard in the neighborhood of the farm-house 
since the eventful time when Fisher’s Hill rang with 
the crash of arms. 

No foraging or plundering parties had passed the 
house, and it seemed that peace and quiet were to once 
more reign in this part of the valley. 

One morning, while Bertha was at work in the 
frcnt room, setting things to rights, as her aunt ex- 
pressed it, she was a little startled at hearing the 
clatter of hoofs down the flinty Virginia road. 

Quickly she went to the window and peered out. 

A dozen horsemen were coming, and they soon 
reined up before the house. 

These men wore the Confederate gray, a color that 
was entirely pleasing in the eye of Bertha McVane. 


AT THE POINT OF THE SWORD. 99 

She stood in the open door-way when the leader of 
the troop came up the walk, hat in hand, and a smile 
wreathing his dark face. . 

“Still here, Bertha. I am glad you are well and 
unharmed. I feared you might have suffered from the 
raids of these Yankee banditti, who are spreading 
desolation far and near through the Shenandoah 
Valley” 

It was Colonel Trafton who thus addressed the 
maiden. 

“I am happy to meet yon, colonel,” uttered the 
girl “How is the conflict going?” 

“As it should. Sheridan is retreating. Our army will 
follow him back to the Potomac, perhaps into Mary- 
land. Before snow flies, Pennsylvania will be at the 
feet of the South ; that is my prediction.” 

“I hope you may prove a wise prophet,” answered 
the girl, with glowing eyes ; at the same time she 
thought of her patient up stairs, who had been 
wounded fighting for the old flag. 

What would Colonel Trafton say did he know of 
him? 

“You have an invalid soldier under this roof, I un- 
derstand?” the colonel said. 

“You have not been misinformed, colonel.” 

“A Yankee soldier, too?” 

“Again you are right.” 

“May I inquire why your uncle has been so indis- 
creet, to say the least, as to harbor an enemy to the 
South?” 

“Pure humanity prompted him, colonel. We ought 
not to sink our humanity in our partisanship.” 

“Indeed !” he sneered. “I cannot see that human- 
ity should prompt Orvin Clymore to turn his house 
into a Yankee hospital. Can it be that it is to save 
his property that the old man has changed his coat?” 

“For shame. Colonel Trafton!” 

“It looks that way, anyhow.” 


100 


AT THE POINT OF THE SWORD. 


^‘My uncle would die sooner than renounce allegi- 
ance to the Confederacy, ’ ^ cried Bertha, the indig- 
nant color staining her cheeks. 

At this moment Mr. Clymore appeared on the 
scene, and Bertha fled back to the parlor. 

The Confederate colonel grasped the farmer warmly 
by the hand; then, after the first greetings were over, 
began questioning him regarding his guest. 

“Yes, we have a Yankee under our roof who was 
wounded in the fight on Fisher’s Hill. I did not want 
the fellow here, neither did my wife, but Bertha and 
the captain pleaded so hard ” 

“The captain?” Trafton interrupted. 

“Captain Chetwood.” 

A dark look overspread the Confederate colonel’s 
face at mention of that name. 

It seemed that this odious Union captain was pop- 
ping up on all occasions to annoy him especially. 

“So Captain Chetwood and Bertha united their ap- 
peals,” growled the colonel. “I would like very much 
to look upon this prisoner who has carried everybody 
as by storm. Will you permit it, Mr. Clymore?”' 

“Certainly,” answered the obliging farmer, never 
once suspecting what a row he was about to create 
under his own roof. 

The doughty colonel followed Mr. Clymore up the 
stairs, and soon they entered the room above, occu- 
pied by the wounded Virginia ranger. 

Moses Bluff sat in an old-fashioned rocker, near a 
low window that overlooked the back yard. He had 
not seen the troopers ride up ; but had heard their 
voices, and knew that a party of soldiers had halted 
at the farm-house. 

The moment the farmer and his companion crossed 
the threshold of his room, “Loyal Mose” looked about 
and fixed his eyes on Colonel Trafton. 

Half-way across the floor the colonel halted, a look 
of surprise, of infernal joy on his face. 


AT THE POINT OF THE SWOED. 101 

“Mose Bluff!” 

And with the words, uttered in a hissing voice, 
Colonel Trafton drew his sword. 

“Colonel Trafton!” 

White as death had grown the face of the wounded 
soldier, as he looked once more in the face of the 
man he hated with a hatred that was deadly in its 
nature. 

Moses Bluff rose from his chair. 

He was not armed, but he did not flinch from the 
danger that menaced. 

“Colonel Trafton — murderer! at last we meet!” 
cried the young soldier, in a voice husky with emo- 
tion, while his attenuated frame trembled like a leaf 
in the storm. 

Without noticing the epithet, the colonel turned to 
the astonished farmer. 

“Were you aware, sir, whom you have entertained, 
fed, and coddled during the past ten days?” 

“A Unionist, I admit.” 

“But his name?” 

“I have never asked it. ” 

“I thought so. Then know that this man — this 
wretch whom your hospitality has clothed, fed,, and 
cared for so tenderly, is Moses Bluff, a man who has 
done more to terrorize the people of this valley than 
the worst of Sheridan’s rough riders. A traitor to his 
State and country, he has remorsely slaughtered 
friends and neighbors; burning, murdering, and 
destroying — a fiend most horrible. Women and chil- 
dren tremble at mention of his name, as well they 
may. Helpless beings may well fear this wretch, 
who has thus far managed to keep his precious car- 
cass outside our lines. But he is in my power now, 
and I will see that he commits no more depredations 
— murders no more women and children!” 

The colonel, who had now worked himself into a 


102 


AT THE POINT OF THE SWOED. 


furious passion, now advanced with naked sword 
raised aloft. 

Mr. Clymore stood staring helplessly at the two 
men. He had heard of Moses Bluff, and believed the 
colonel had not enlarged in the least on the man’s 
villainy ; and to think that he had sheltered and fed 
such a wretch during the ten days just passed. No 
wonder the old farmer was quite dumb with amazement 
and horror for the time. 

The hollow eyes of the invalid soldier did not 
flinch in their concentrated gaze into the dark face of 
the rebel raider. 

“Ezra Trafton, you have lied most villainously 
about me, and you know it. I am not a traitor, as you 
are, to the country that gave me birth. This is the 
State of Washington, the founder and father of our 
common country. He fought eight long years to es- 
tablish the government and the flag for which I am 
willing to lay down my life ” 

“For which you shall die, youngster,” hissed Col- 
onel Trafton, holding his hand for the moment, in 
spite of himself. 

“My personal wrongs I consider secondary to love 
for the Union,” pursued Moses Bluff. “You accuse 
me of treason, of murder. Ah! Colonel Trafton, you 
knew when those words left your lips that you uttered 
lies, base, infernal lies, that came from a corrupt 
heart for a corrupt purpose. I brand you, Colonel 
Trafton, not only a liar, but a traitor and a coward as 
well!” 

Weak with his whirling passions evoked by the 
presence and words of his enemy, Moses Bluff reeled 
and sank into his chair, where a moment later the 
point of Trafton ’s sword was raised to pierce his loyal 
heart ! 


BERTHA’S VICTORY. 


103 


CHAPTER XIX. 
bertha’s victory. 

Above the weak and helpless form in the chair the 
colonel towered, the point of his naked sword pressed 
against the palpitating breast of his enemy. 

“Thus do I rid the world of a traitor to Virginia!” 
hissed Trafton, as he gripped his sword for the fatal 
stroke. 

“Strike, coward!” 

“Loyal Mose” lay back, white, yet with the fires of 
hatred and defiance flaming from his eyes. 

“Hold! in the name of mercy!” 

A clear yet soft voice filled their ears. 

A hand was laid on the shoulder of Colonel Traf- 
ton, and he was turned about to find himself con- 
fronted by Bertha McVane. 

“Ah! it is you, Bertha!” uttered the colonel, forc- 
ing a smile, and taking a step backward from his vic- 
tim. “This is no place for you. ” 

“What were you about to do. Colonel Trafton?” 
the girl demanded, sharply, piercing the guilty man 
through with her clear, questioning black orbs. 

“To do?” he stammered, falling back in confusion. 
“I — perhaps you do not know this man;” and the 
colonel’s long forefinger pointed toward the Unionist 
in the chair. 

“I am pretty well acquainted with the young man, ’ ’ 
was the rapidly uttered answer. 

“Ah, Bertha, you have made a woeful mistake in 
permitting this man, this — this ” 

“Traitor! I know what you would say, Colonel 
Trafton,” uttered Bertha, as he seemed at a loss for 
words to finish his sentence. “This man has espoused 


104 


BERTHA’S VICTORY. 


the cause of the Union from conviction ! I never 
quarrel with any one on account of his conviction. 
In the old flag he sees the emblems of Union, of lib- 
erty, and justice. When a man can read all this in 
the flag, how can I blame him for carrying his con- 
victions to the battle-field ? No, Colonel Trafton, I 
honor the man, such a man as dare stand for what 
he, in the very depths of his soul, believes to be 
right. ’ ’ 

She paused then, and stepped to the side of the 
chair, laying one small brown palm upon the glossy 
black hair that shadowed the white face of the 
wounded Union soldier. 

A frown, black as a thunder-cloud, swept the face 
of the colonel. 

“It has gone so far as this, eh?” uttered Trafton. 
“This young renegade has actually converted the 
daughter of a McVane, a South Carolinian at that, to 
the cause of the Union. Well — well ” 

“That will do, sir !” 

The girl’s pride was in arms at once. 

“I am a believer in Southern rights !” cried Bertha. 
“I feel that we of the South are right in this war, 
and ought to succeed, but I am not so blind and big- 
oted as to denounce all who uphold the North as 
traitors and outlaws. Partisanship goes too far at 
times; but even you. Colonel Trafton, shall not im- 
pugn my motives, or proclaim me false to principle, 
simply because I can see that a foe may possess a 
motive as honest as my own.” 

“Bravely spoken !” uttered “Toyal Mose;” “but 
that man has not soul enough to appreciate your 
position.” 

“By Heaven! this looks suspicious!” cried the col- 
onel, trembling with rage and jealousy. “Mr. Cly- 
more, have you been blind to this — this ” 

“You need not finish the sentence. Colonel Traf- 
ton,” uttered Miss McVane. “You have no right to 


BERTHA’S VICTORY. 


105 


Speak as you do. I have simply defended a man you 
would, in your unwise patriotism, have murdered. 
While under this roof he shall be protected;” and 
Bertha turned a look upon her uncle that caused him 
to look confused, and a bit uneasy. 

“Yes,” finally articulated the farmer; “as we have 
accepted this man, and agreed to care for him until 
ablg to leave, I am sure he ought to be protected. ” 

“I am surprised that you should wish to protect 
one who has no right to honorable treatment. Bertha, 
were you aware that this man you have coddled and 
nursed is Moses Bluff the traitor?” 

If he expected to see her start and grow pale, he 
was sadly disappointed. 

“I am aware that he has been so designated by one 
party, while the Yankees are pleased to speak of him 
as “Loyal Mose. ” I know all you would say, colonel, 
of the fearful outrages, and all that, but in times 
like these people are given to exaggeration, and, on 
talking the matter over candidly with Mr. Bluff, I 
find that he is entirely innocent of the charges pre- 
ferred against him by the partisan press of Virginia.” 

An oath fell from the lips of Colonel Trafton. 

He was quite beside himself, now. 

“The people of the Shenandoah Valley are anx- 
ious to learn of the death of Traitor Mose, and I will 
not let this chance slip through my fingers — he must 
die!” 

Again Colonel Trafton advanced upon the helpless 
man in the arm-chair. 

“He shall not die!” she exclaimed. 

“Stand aside, Bertha!” commanded the Confeder- 
ate colonel. “People would never forgive me; even 
Mosby, whom we all love, would drive me from his 
command in disgrace did he know that Traitor Mose 
was in my power and I permitted him to escape. No! 
though angels plead, I would not spare the life of this 
man!” 


106 


BERTHA’S VICTORY. 


“Back! You shall not murder him!” 

Straight as an Indian, the little form of Bertha was 
drawn, confronting the colonel — her betrothed hus- 
band. 

“Bertha, are you resolved on creating a scene?” 
demanded the colonel, sternly. 

“I am resolved on saving you from a crime, Ezra. ” 

“This is foolish. This is foolish. Mr. Clymore, 
please remove your niece from the room — I must do 
my duty. ’ ’ 

“Bertha, perhaps it is best,” uttered the bewildered 
old man. 

Bertha paid no heed to the words of her uncle. 

The door of the farmer’s house had been opened to 
receive the young Union ranger, and while under the 
roof — her uncle’s — the youth should not be harmed 
if s:ie could prevent it. 

Mrs. Clymore was away from home to-day, visiting 
a neighbor, and therefore did not come in for a share 
in the scene. 

Silent as the dead, Moses Bluff sat, watching with 
feelings too intense for utterance, the contest going 
on between this brave woman and the cowardly colo- 
nel. 

His young heart was overflowing with gratitude, 
but there was no time for expressions of this kind 
now. 

“Aside with you, girl!” cried Colonel Trafton, an- 
grily, at the same time advancing and lading a hand 
on the arm of the defiant Bertha. 

Quickly one fair hand sought the folds of her 
dress; the next moment it caine forth, and Colonel 
Trafton started back with a cry of rage and alarm, as 
a revolver muzzle gleamed in his face. 

“Time for argument has ceased,” uttered Bertha, 
without a tremor in her voice. “You have been un- 
reasonable, Ezra Trafton. I have pleaded with you in 
vain, and now I propose to open the fight with this. 


BERTHA’S VICTORY. 


107 


Attempt to harm this man, who is tinder our protec- 
tion, and, as true as I live. I will shoot you dead!” 

The girl’s face became ashen in hue, and her eyes 
seemed to dilate as she uttered these words with a 
cocked pistol leveled at the breast of her betrothed. 

It was a strange position, indeed, but Bertha Mc- 
Vane held what she deemed sacred duty above love, on 
this occasion, and it maybe that the latter feeling was 
not so strong in her heart as it had been in times past. 

Colonel Trafton was a prudent man. 

He remembered the broad acres, the numerous city 
blocks belonging to the McVanes, and realized that it 
would not do to go too far. 

Of a sudden he broke into an amused laugh. 

“High tragedy, indeed!” he uttered. “Well, 
Bertha, since you are so determined, I will give over 
my claims, and suffer the traitor to live ; but we shall 
meet again ere long, Moses Bluff; then look well to 
yourself. ’ ’ 

With these words, the colonel strode from the 
room. 

“What think you now of the colonel’s courage?” 

This question Bluff put to Bertha some minutes 
later, after he had expressed his gratitude in words 
that were burning. 

“Hush, Moses, do not ask me,” uttered Bertha, in 
a low tone. 

Her face was pale, and she seemed deeply troubled 
over the events of the day. 

In a little time she went below, and some time 
later the Confederate party dashed away. 

Perhaps ten minutes had passed, when something 
caught the eye of “Loyal Mose” that caused him to 
fix his gaze on the barn, beyond the negro huts. 

What was it? 

Smoke, followed immediately by a red tongue of 
flame. 

The barn was on fire ? 


108 


THE BURNING BAHy 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE BURNING BARN. 

“Fire! fire! fire!” 

It was this cry from the chamber window that 
startled the inmates of the farm-house. 

Though weak, and doubly so from his excitement, 
consequent upon meeting Colonel Trafton, Moses 
Bluff was yet strong enough to break a square of glass 
from the window and shout fire through the opening. 

Almost instantly the utmost confusion prevailed. 

But few negroes remained on the place, and when 
these came rushing to the barn, the great building 
was one sea of flame. 

“Too late — too late!” 

Eike one bereft of sense and feeling, Orvin Clymore 
stood, with white face and wide-open eyes, staring at 
the burning barn. 

“The horses — save the horses!” 

This was the cry that fell from the lips of Bertha. 

She hastened toward the barn, but a loud’ voice 
bade her halt. 

In her excitement she had noticed the approach of 
strangers, and therefore knew not of the presence of 
Captain Chet wood, until he dashed up to her side on 
a foaming steed. 

At his back rode a score of blue-coats, members of 
the Eoyal Tigers, who had come to look after their 
old commander. 

Two of the rangers dismounted, and rushed into 
the hot stables, and at great risk, succeeded in saving 
the two horses belonging to the farmer. 

The barn was gone, with all its grain and hay — a 
severe loss, indeed. 


The burning barn. 


100 


Captain Chetwood remained near the burning pile 
for some time, directing movements for preventing 
the spread of the fire. 

This was no easy task. 

Great brands were hurled by the wind through the 
air, and alighting on the roofs of the outhouses, ig- 
nited them as though they were composed of powder. 

There was plenty of water in a cistern near, and 
with buckets found on the premises, the rangers man- 
aged to save the farmer’s house and surroundings from 
sharing the fate of the barn. 

For more than an hour this fight with the fire fiend 
prevailed. 

After all danger was past, Captain Chetwood 
walked to the house and confronted Bertha, the far- 
mer being too greatly prostrated at his loss to feel 
able to meet and converse with strangers then. 

The captain’s face was flushed, his hair singed 
from his fight with the flames. 

Bertha met him at the door. 

“It is not necessary for you to remain long, sir,” 
cried the maiden, fiercely. “Perhaps, though, you- 
intended to give my uncle’s house to the flames also?” 

The captain looked his astonishment. 

This was a reception he little expected, after the 
herculean work he had put in to save the house from 
destruction. 

“I certainly have no desire to burn the house after 
these men and I have worked so hard to save it,” an- 
swered the captain, quickly. 

“A hot job,” growled one ^of the rangers, who 
stood near. “I wouldn’t a fit fire fur no reb, ef the 
boss hadn’t been keered fur here. Them as is kind to 
Moses is our friends, let ’em fight on which side they 
will.” 

This was a sentiment that Bertha ought to have 
appreciated, but just then she was laboring under a 


110 


THE BURNING BARN. 


mistaken idea, and all her wrath was directed against 
Captain Chetwood and his companions. 

“Captain Chetwood, at last you have siicceed-ed in 
destroying my uncle’s property. I once imagined you 
too magnanimous, or rather too much of a Christian 
to countenance this barbarous war waged by Sheridan 
and his underlings against women and children ; but 
I now see that I was mistaken. ’ ’ 

“Bertha, what are you saying?” cried the captain. 
“I’m not a barbarian, neither am I a savage. Where- 
in have I offended you?” 

He was laughing at her, and she realized it with a 
new burst of anger. 

“Hypocrite !” 

“There, Miss McVane, that will do,” assuming a 
sudden sternness not usual with him when addressing 
a woman. “You seem to wish to abuse me for saving 
property, and perhaps life, that was of no interest to 
me whatever — the property of an enemy.” 

“Again I must repeat my expression — hypocrite!” 
uttered the fair Confederate, with an emphasis not to 
be mistaken. 

“You are pleased to be severe, cutting. Do you 
imagine that I set fire to your uncle’s barn?” 

“Ido.” 

“Your perceptive faculties are too sharp, Miss Mc- 
Vane. I was certainly a long way from here when 
that fire was started. ’ ’ 

“Not far, I am sure. You appeared on the scene 
about the same time we noticed the fire.” 

“And so you connected me with this incendia- 
rism?” 

“How could I do otherwise?” 

The captain’s yellow mustache was raised in a 
smile. 

“What a fiery little creature you are, Bertha. I 
solemnly assure you that I had no more to do with 
starting that fire than the Bey of Tunis. ’ ’ 


THE BUKNING barn. 


Ill 


“Nor these men?” 

“Nor these men, Bertha;” and there was a look in 
his blue eyes that assured her he was speaking the 
truth. 

“Forgive me, Royal, if I have wronged you; the 
fire may have been the result of carelessness on 
the part of the negroes, they are such lazy, good-for- 
nothing creatures. Since your President declared 
them free,, uncle has been unable to make them work 
as they used. It’s a shame to rob us — not only of 
slaves, but of the substance of the land, too. Ah ! 
there will come a fearful retribution on the North 
some day — there surely will. Captain Chetwood.” 

She was waxing warm again, as the wrongs of the 
South seemed to loom up mountain high before her 
excited imagination. 

He stroked his mustache thoughtfully. 

“Bertha, you are a woman of sense; now let me 
propound a few questions. ’ ’ 

“Very well.” 

“Who began this war?” 

“The North, by electing a sectional President,” 
she said, quickly. “Ask me something more difficult 
to answer, please. ’ ’ 

A quizzical expression shot from his eyes. 

“It would be easy enough to answer in that way,” 
he said. “I don’t think I’ll ask you any more ques- 
tions. I wish to see Moses Bluff. How is he, Bertha?” 

“Improving. ” 

She led the way quickly to the room occupied by 
the wounded soldier, and then left the two captains 
together for a time. 

Bluff was anxious to be in the saddle once more. 

His wound had not proved a bad one, but he was 
not yet strong enough to take the field. 

When the young ranger related the story of Colo- 
nel Trafton’s visit but a short time before, and the 


11 ^ 


THE BURNING BARN. 


scene which followed, Captain Chetwood evinced the 
deepest interest. 

His eye kindled when Bluff told of Bertha’s brave 
act in saving his life. 

“That girl is a heroine, Royal. She has a mind of 
her own, without being strong-minded, she is an im- 
petuous Southern sympathizer, and is ready to die 
for her convictions. Royal, if I was good-looking 
and smart, as you are, I would try and win that girl. 
She will make some man a noble wife.” 

“No doubt of it,” answered Captain Chetwood, 
thoughtfully; “but ” 

Then he paused suddenly. He was on the point of 
saying that she was engaged to Colonel Trafton. He 
caught his words in time, however. 

“What were you about to say?” 

“That I must be on the move. I would like to cap- 
ture this Colonel Trafton. ’ ’ 

“You would hang him then. No — no, captain, 
you must leave him to me. Spare the villain for my 
vengeance. ’ ’ 

“I may not meet him. ” 

Just then considerable commotion was manifest out- 
side. The rangers were anxious to see their captain, 
and Moses Bluff appeared at the window, which Chet- 
wood opened. 

The appearance of the white, boyish face at the 
window brought forth a ringing cheer from the score 
of blue-coats below. Hats were taken off and swung 
high in the air. 

“ Ah ! the boys love their leader — God bless them !” 
muttered “lyoyal Mose, ’ ’ with a moist light in his black 
eyes. 

At this moment, however, a hoarse cry filled the 
air, then came the crack of carbines, and the road, 
both to the north and south, was discovered swarm- 
ing with mounted Confederates. 


BERTHA AND THE MAJOR. 


113 


CHAPTER XXI. 

BERTHA AND THE MAJOR. 

One glance from the window showed the Union 
captain' that his little party of rangers were outnum- 
bered more than fifty to one by the Confederates. 

Moses Bluff uttered a low cry of alarm. 

“My soul! Captain Chetwood, you are in for it 
now; these are Mosby’s men, and not noted for their 
magnanimity, ” uttered the young ranger, in a tone 
that expressed the deepest alarm for the safety of his 
friend. 

By this time the air rang with the sharp reports of 
carbines, as the rebels poured in an enfilading fire 
upon the little band of Unionists in front of the house. 

“Quick! for the love of mercy — escape while you 
can !” cried Moses Bluff, turning to Captain Chet- 
wood. 

“And leave you?” 

“Leave me. I am in no danger.” 

Thus urged. Captain Chetwood turned from the 
window and hurried away. He dashed down the 
stairs, and was soon in the saddle, where the bullets 
were pattering in a lively manner. 

Ping! ping! ping! 

The leaden pellets cut the air, some of them bury- 
ing themselves in the house, while others whistled 
through the trees, severing twigs and leaves. 

By the time Captain Chetwood had gained the sad- 
dle the rangers were mounted, and sending answer- 
ing shots into the face of the foe. 

The Confederates were closing in rapidly, and 
would SQon surround the little party. If they would 
escape they must make a move right quickly. 


114 


BERTHA AND THE MAJOR. 


‘‘Across the field to the woods, boys!’’ cried the 
captain, loudly. 

Quickly the rangers wheeled their horses and gave 
them the rein. 

“Halt tharl” 

‘ ‘ Surrender, Y ankees ! ’ ’ 

Our friends paid no heed to the loud calls of the 
guerrilla raiders, but dashed away over the field 
toward the woods. 

The guerrillas were soon racing over the open 
ground, firing and yelling like Indians. 

Captain Chetwood rode in the rear of his command, 
and just before entering the woods he turned about 
and sent back a shot which emptied one saddle. 

Then the captain’s horse leaped a fence and en- 
tered the woods. 

A volley of leaden pellets cut the bushes and twigs 
about him, but without any damage. 

An officer rode at the head of the pursuing party, 
and once, concealed by the bushes. Captain Chet- 
wood faced about, glanced along his revolver, and 
fired. 

The officer fell with a bullet in his brain. 

The result of the captain’s shot brought a yell of 
rage from the pursuers. 

A second volley was fired, and one of the rangers 
received a wound ; but the little party scattered 
through the woods and were soon lost to view. 

The pursuit was soon at an end. 

Two of the rangers were slain, and .several had re- 
ceived wounds as a result of the fight. 

The larger portion of the Confederate raiders 
halted at the farm-house, and one who wore a major’s 
straps, demanded food for his men and horses. 

Bertha pointed to the smoking ruins of the barn. 

“All the food we had for horses was there. It has 
but just been destroyed. What more can you ask?” 

“Upon my soul, young lady, I’m extremely sorry, 


BEETHA AND THE MAJOE. 


115 


SO I am,” replied the Confederate officer, no other 
than Major de Banyan, whom we have lost sight of 
since that fearful railroad accident during the first 
few weeks of the war. 

“No more so than we, who have, indeed, suffered 
heavily.” 

“Faith, thin, would it be asking too much for the 
least bit of refreshment. Sure it’s a hot day, so it is, 
and I’m that fagged that the wing bone of a fowl 
wouldn’t go amiss.” 

“Please walk in, and we will do our best for you, 
sir. ’ ’ 

“Oh, major,” whispered the officer to himself, 
“what a boy ye are among the ladies. Sure, this one’s 
a charmer. ” 

Bertha took him into the cool dining-room, through 
the open windows of which came the sweet smell of 
fragrant flowers. 

“Did you catch the name of the officer who com- 
manded the Yankee divils we scattered from here just 
now?” 

“Captain Chetwood, I believe.” 

“Oh, indeed; faith, I thought it was that rascal 
they call ‘ ‘ Loyal Mose. ’ ’ It’s him we’re in search of. ’ ’ 

Bertha began to feel uneasy. 

“What will be his fate if you take him?” 

“Death, sure — the death of a traitor. Faith, me 
orders are to hang him higher than Haman of old.’’ 

“Is he such a terrible fellow ?J’ she said, spreading 
out the hasty repast on the table, which the major 
eyed with avidity. 

“Is it possible ye haven’t heard of this desperate 
rascal?” 

“Oh, yes — but I am sure he isn’t as bad as he’s 
painted. ” 

“Faith, he’s twice as bad, and divil a lie am I tell- 
ing you,” said Major de Banyan, with his mouth 
full. 


il6 


BERTHA AND THE MAJOR. 


“What sort of a person is he?” inquired Bertha, 
anxiously. “Have you ever seen him?” 

“Sure, I haven’t. He’s a young fellow, they tell 
me. A regular fire-eater, be the powers ! If he were 
only an Irishman, now, I’d have some respect for the 
divil. ” 

“You say he’s in the neighborhood?” 

“He was last seen not a thousand miles from here, 
me jewel.” 

“It is to be hoped you will capture such a desperate 
character. ” 

“Faith, I hope so myself. It would be quite a 
feather in my cap, do you mind. Mosby would give 
a good deal to get him in limbo, so he would. ” 

“Do you like pie — I beg your pardon, I don’t know 
your name.” 

“Me name, is it? Major de Banyan at your service, 
ma’am. ” 

“Happy to make your acquaintance, major,” she 
said, with a smile. 

“Do you mind that, now?” said de Banyan, to 
himself. “Ah, Phelim, me boy, what a divil ye are 
among the girls.” 

Then he remembered her question. 

“Do I like pie, did ye say? Faith, I do. Is it a 
meat pie?” 

“No,” she said, laughing; “custard.” 

“Sure then, I’ve a soft spot for custard, so I have. 
I’ll try just the smallest bit in the world,” and he 
helped himself to half of it. 

At this moment the farmer appeared, and began 
talking with the major. 

Bertha trembled lest the old man should reveal 
the fact that Moses was under his roof at that very 
moment. He had not heard the conversation between 
his niece and the major, and was therefore not posted 
with regard to the situation. 


BEETHA AND THE MAJOE. 117 

‘‘You have no objection to our searching the house, 
I suppose?” said the major, after a time. 

“None whatever,” answered the farmer. “The 
Yankees have about ruired me, and nothing worse 
can happen.” 

“Except they take your life, sure.” 

“I am not sure but that would prove a blessing,” 
was the old farmer’s lugubrious rejoinder. 

The major, at the head of half a dozen of his men, 
began a search of the house. 

Perhaps the officer did not believe the farmer a 
Confederate sympathizer, and wished to satisfy him- 
self. 

“They will find our guest — Mr. Bluff,” uttered 
Bertha, in a low tone, to her uncle. “If they learn 
who he is, the poor fellow will be murdered.” 

“Ah, Heaven!” groaned Orvin Clymore, “lam 
nearly distracted. If any more blood is shed I shall 
die.” 

“Hist! Here they come. Leave all to me,” whisp- 
ered Bertha, who at heart a stanch Southerner, was 
not ready to see Moses Bluff murdered in his helpless- 
ness. 

At the top of the stairs Bertha stood when Major de 
Banyan ascended. 

“My brother is in yonder room. He was at Fish- 
er’s Hill, and was wounded ; you will not disturb 
him?” 

“I will see him, at any rate,” said the major, and 
Bertha was forced to conduct him to the presence of 
the young Unionist. 

Unfortunately, Bluff’s nether limbs were incased in 
pantaloons, and the color at once attracted the eye 
of Major de Banyan, and excited his suspicions at the 
same time. 

“So, ho! young man, you are one of Sheridan’s 
rough riders, eh?” 

“I never deny ” 


118 


BEHTHA AND THE MAJOR. 


A warning look from Bertha cut short the Union- 
ist’s words. 

“You never deny the truth, eh?” cried the major, 
quickly, at the same time drawing his sword. 

“My brother was with Early’s troops at Fisher’s 
Hill,” said Bertha. “Tom would tell you about it, 
but he is not very strong yet- ” 

“A pretty story,” sneered the major, touching the 
blue breeches with the point of his sword. “Upon 
me word, I believe this man to be a Unionist, and, 
faith, I am going to take him out of this house. I 
think we can find proof enough of his identity. If we 
do ” 

“Well, sir?” questioned the young Unionist, his 
dark eyes flashing, all his 3^outhful blood on fire. 

“We will hang you to one of these trees, so we 
will !” 

“Magnanimous, but ” 

“Do not excite yourself, Tom,” cried Bertha, 
quickly, fearing lest the youth should betray himself 
by intemperate language. “The major is a gentleman, 
and will not disgrace our cause by persecuting a 
wounded boy. ” 

It was an artful speech, and had its effect. 

Major de Banyan, however, could not get the blue 
breeches out of his mind, and he questioned Moses re- 
garding them. 

“The result of a foraging expedition, major,” an- 
swered the young ranger, his gaze going from - the 
officer to the crowd of troopers outside. 

Captain Chetwood had escaped, and he felt happy, 
even though his own position was not a safe one. 

“This may be, but I tjiink I will examine your 
clothing and this room a little, and see what we shall 
see, faith!” 

When the major would have laid hands on Bluff 
rudel}^, Bertha suddenly confronted him, a gleaming 
revolver in her hand. 


ON THE EVE OF BATTLE. 


119 


“Major, stand back,” in a low, yet determined 
voice. “To war .on wounded boys and women is not 
the mission of true soldiers of the South. My brother 
will take the field soon, but now he must not be dis- 
turbed, and his life endangered. Sheridan is ravaging 
the valley. Why don’t you meet him and drive him 
trom the country ! For shame ! that a Southern gen- 
tleman should stoop to do a mean action. Go, major, 
and my blessing, and that of all good friends of the 
South will accompany you to the field of battle. 
Your place is not here.” 

Major de Banyan realized that she spoke the truth. 

“Give me a kiss, me jewel, and I’ll let the boy 
go, ’ ’ he cried, with a laugh ; and to the astonishment 
of Bluff, the girl permitted the major to press a kiss 
upon her cheek. Then the officer turned away with- 
out a word. 

Soon the tramp of his departed troops died away 
in the distance. Bertha McVane had once again saved 
the life of “L<oyal Mose, ” the terror of the Shenandoah 
Valley. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

ON THE EVE OF battle. 

Knowing that the Confederates had been severely 
punished, Sheridan believed it would be safe for him 
to visit Washington, and, accordingly, he left his 
army posted on the hills near Middletown and re- 
paired to the capital. 

Sheridan’s visit to Washington came near proving 
fatal to his army, as after events proved. 

Eongstreet had been sent to reinforce Early with 
twelve thousand men, and the Confederate com- 
mander began to feel that he was able to take the 
offensive once more. 


120 


ON THE EVE OF BATTLE. 


The Union Army was posted on three moderate 
hills, extending for three miles across the country, 
each one a little back of the other. 

The first and foremost one, some four or five miles 
north of Fisher’s Hill, was held by the Army of West 
Virginia, under Crook; the second, half a mile to the 
rear of this, by the Nineteenth Corps, under Emory, 
the turnpike running between them. The third and 
last, still farther back, was occupied by the Sixth 
Corps, with Torbert’s superb cavalry covering its 
right flank. 

The Confederate commander heard that Sheridan 
was in Washington, and at once resolved to attack his 
army before his return. 

On the night of the eighteenth of October, the 
Confederates crossed the mountains which separate 
the branches of the Shenandoah, and forded the north 
fork, marching in five columns. 

There was a dense fog at the time, wrapping every- 
thing in impenetrable darkness; but Early knew the 
ground thoroughly, and, with trusty guides, was in 
no danger of being misled. 

He ordered all the men to leave their canteens be- 
hind, lest their clanking against the shanks of the 
bayonets should be heard by the Union pickets and 
give the alarm. 

His march was to be noiseless, and he directed that 
all orders should be given in a low tone, for although 
the movement was to be made with an army of thirty 
thousand men, it must be made with the utmost se- 
crecy to insure success. 

Discovery would be fatal. 

The whole enterprise was hazardous beyond expres- 
sion. 

The Confederates, however, moved off toward the 
Union left unperceived, though, about two o’clock in 
the morning, some of the pickets- on duty reported 
they heard a heavy, muffled tramp and rustling 


ON THE EVE OF BATTLE. 


121 


through the underbrush, as though a multitude was 
marching along the front. 

This information caused some precautions to be 
taken, but no reconnaissance was sent out. 

The truth is, a serious attack by Early was not 
dreamed of, and the main army slumbered on, 
wholly unsuspicious of danger. 

All this time the steady columns were sweeping 
on through the gloom, now pushing through Ihe 
dripping trees, and now fording a stream — skirting 
the Union position for miles — till at length, an hour 
before daybreak, Early’s troops, shivering with the 
cold, stood within six hundred yards of their enemy’s 
camp. 

It was now the morning of the nineteenth. 

This was to be a memorable day — one to be written 
in characters of blood upon the pages of American his- 
tory. 

Captain Royal Chetwood was with the army now. 

Although he had ostensibly acted with the cavalry, 
yet, he was now, as was his regiment, a part of the 
infantry force under Crook, the corps destined to re- 
ceive the first shock of battle on this memorable 
day. 

The gallant Pennsylvanian had heard nothing from 
his young friend, ‘‘Loyal Mose,” since the day of their 
meeting in the farmer’s house, when a portion of 
Mosby’s band made that sudden attack. 

He believed that Bluff had escaped death, and 
would yet appear upon the field of strife. 

On the night of the eighteenth. Captain Chet- 
wood’s command was re.sting peacefully under the 
autumnal stars, little dreaming of the fate in store for 
many of them ere the rising of another sun. 

It was long past midnight when Captain Chetwood 
had left his tent and wandered forth into the night. 

Somehow, he could not sleep. 

Restless, full of uneasy thoughts, he resolved to 


122 


ON THE EVE OF BATTLE. 


take a turn in the night air, and banish his uneasy 
feelings if possible. 

In a little time he gained a spot just without the 
line, and stood in the cover of some trees. 

Darkness everywhere, a dense, damp fog hanging 
over the hills. 

The solemn stillness of the night was oppressive. 

The captain leaned against a tree and listened. 

It seemed as though he would hear the hoot of an 
owl, or the cry of a night-hawk, as had often been 
the case, when he stood watching and waiting for 
deer, in his own Pennsylvania woods in the long ago, 
when but a boy in his teens. 

No hoot of owl, or cry of night-bird fell on his 
stained senses. 

The silence was burdensome. 

Instead of feeling relieved by the damp dews of 
heaven on his brow. Captain Chetwood felt more op- 
pressed than ever. 

^‘Ugh ! this is awful. ' I will take a turn down yon- 
der aways. Mayhap I may run upon something to 
attract my attention, to withdraw my thoughts from 
— Bertha and her lover.” 

Ah, yes, that was his trouble. 

This was the first acknowledgment he had made 
even to himself. 

He walked away into the fog. 

He had gone perhaps twenty rods when he came 
to a sudden halt. 

He had passed a sentinel on his beat, passed him in 
the fog without being discovered, and . now stood 
many yards beyond the outpost. 

The sound of steps fell on the captain’s ear. 

Tramp — tramp ! 

Stock-still the Union captain stood and listened. 

He could not be mistaken. That muffled sound 
could be nothing else, nothing but the tramp of men. 

They were not Federals, 


ON THE EVE OF BATTLE. 


123 


What then was the meaning of this muffled tramp 
along the Union front? 

The question sent a startled thrill to the heart of 
the captain. 

The enemy was coming- — coming under cover of 
fog and night to surprise the sleeping army. 

Again Royal Chetwood listened. He was no alarm- 
ist, and did not wish to arouse the sleeping camp 
without good reason. 

The tramping sound had suddenly ceased. 

Another sound struck the startled ear of the young 
captain, however, that convinced him that he had 
made no mistake. 

It was a metallic clink that was not new to his ears. 
There could be no doubt now of the truth — the en- 
emy were moving in force upon the sleeping camp. 

Quickly Captain Chetwood turned about, to retrace 
his steps, his revolver drawn in his hand, ready to fire 
and give the alarm the moment he should gain the 
Union outpost. 

He did not carry his intentions into execution. 

A crash sounded almost at his side. 

The next instant a dark form stood up almost gi- 
gantic in stature, disputing the captain’s pathway to 
the Union lines. 

Chetwood would have avoided the man if possible, 
but he soon discovered that this was not to be. 

“Friend or ?” questioned the captain, in a 

whisper, at the same time raising his revolver. 

For answer the stranger hurled himself with stag- 
gering force upon the captain. 

This decided the identity at once. 

Captain Chetwood found himself clasped in the 
arms of a giant. 

With a crash, both men went to the ground in a 
furious struggle for the mastery. 

It was a silent struggle. 

Neither man cared to rouse the enemy by unneces- 


124 


A STUNNING SUKPKISE. 


sary noise, and, therefore, the deadly struggle con- 
tinued almost in silence. 

The man was evidently one of the enemy’s scouts, 
prying about to ascertain the condition of things in 
the Union camp. 

He had encountered his match in the Union cap- 
tain, however. 

Chetwood managed to break the giant’s hold as 
they fell, and, turning him, he came on top. 

Quickly Captain Chetwood brought his revolver 
into use as a bludgeon, soon beating the Confederate 
scout into insensibility. 

Leaving him where he had fallen, Chetwood moved 
quickly toward the Union capm, but not half the dis- 
tance had he gone when an ear-splitting yell welled 
up along the hill, followed by the crash of rushing 
feet and crack of musketry. 


CHAPTER XXIIL 

A STUNNING SURPRISE. 

Back to the Union camp went Captain Chetwood 
with the fleetness of a deer. 

From ten thousand throats a deafening yell went 
up through the misty depths beyond the Union lines, 
and this was followed almost instantly with the crash 
and flash of musketry. 


“The shout 

Of battle now began, and rushing sound 
Of onset ended soon each milder thought.’’ 

The surprise was complete, and the panic frightful. 
The roll of drums, bugle calls, and shouts of officers 
arose on every side, and the troops rushed frantically 
to arms ; but before any line of battle could be 


A STUNNING SUKPKISE. 


125 


formed, the shouting, clamorous foe were upon 
them. 

“ Hark to the trump and the drum, 

And the mournful sound of the barbarous horn, 

And the flap of the banners that flit as they’re borne; 

And the neigh of the steed, and the multitude’s hum. 

And the clash and the shout: ‘They come — they come!’ ” 

Without a moment’s check or hindrance, they 
swept like a billow up and over the hill and over the 
breastworks. 

Here a partial line for resistance was formed, and 
here stood Captain Chet wood, with pistol in one hand 
and sword in the other, rallying his men to meet the 
unexpected onset. 

“Stand, boys, stand, and give them lead!” shouted 
the captain. 

The brave Unionists did stand, holding the post for 
a brief time, returning the enemy’s fire with a ven- 
geance. 

But the volleys of musket balls were like rain, and 
the thin line of infantry went down in swathes. 

Captain Chetwood stood alone, almost, at the front. 

Grim faces glared at him through fog and smoke. 

A long line of gray swept forward, with guns and 
bayonets gleaming, the earth trembling under their 
tread, the sky rent with their victorious yells. 

“My soul ! must this be?” cried Captain Chetwood, 
as he found himself borne back by the onset. 

From the breastworks the Unionists were swept, 
after a five minutes’ stand, as chaff before the wind. 

On came the billows of gray, on and on, in one ir- 
resistible, swelling tide. 

It was grand. 

To see, as the day began to break, those gray col- 
umns sweeping all before them over the hill, into the 
valley, and along the turnpike. 

The Army of West Virginia became a herd of fugi- 


1-26 


A STUNNING SUKPRISE. 


tives, fleeing in wild disorder back toward the second 
hill, half a mile in the rear, where lay the Nineteenth 
Corps. 

“Great Heaven! this is terrible!” shouted a Union 
colonel, riding madly along the front of the fleeing 
crowd. “Back, boys! this is disgraceful !” 

The appeals of the officers had some effect, and 
several regiments rallied, and attempted once more to 
stay the tide of Confederate gray sweeping so ma- 
jestically onward. 

The lately beaten and apparently demoralized Con- 
federate Army had suddenly assumed the offensive 
in a way that was without parallel in the history of 
war. 

No wonder the Union generals were dumfounded, 
and utterly at a loss to urrderstand how this could be. 

And Sheridan, the soul of the army, was not here.' 

If the Union Army was defeated, the smiling fields 
of the North would once more be open to invasion, 
and the war would be prolonged indefinitely. 

It was a momentous time indeed, and the destinies 
of milliorrs hung in the balance on that nineteenth 
day of October. 

But the surprise of the morning was so complete — 
so overwhelming, as to preclude hope of successful 
resistance. 

As we have said, a few regiments were infused 
with life and courage enough to make a stand, and 
desperately attempted to turn back the tide of battle. 

“Ho 13 your ground, boys!” 

It was Chetwood’s cry, and his cool courage was 
soon infused into others. The flanking lines of gray 
were held in check for a brief moment, and leaden 
rain laid some of the enemy low as they pushed hotly 
upon the fragmentary lines of blue. 

Crash, hiss, and roar. 

The din was terrific. 


A STUNNING SURPKISE. 


12'J 

Yells, curses and groans mingled with the crash of 
musketry on every hand. 

This was not Fisher’s Hill nor Winchester. 

A defeated army was wrenching lost battles from 
the victorious foe, and turning the tide of victory the 
other way. 

It was a bold, a splendid achievement on the part 
of Early’s troops, and the laurels lately snatched from 
Confederate arms was about to return to them in the 
fullest measure possible. 

For a few minutes the Unionists resisted the ava- 
lanche of gray along the turnpike. 

Dead and wounded strewed the ground, marking 
the spot where their desperate efforts took place. 

“Hold the ground ! Hurrah !” 

But shouts and words of cheer could not hold the 
handful of troops against a- host, and breaking in wild 
disorder, the Unionists began rushing madly from the 
field of strife. 

Captain Chetwood realized that the day was lost in 
that part of the field as he saw the men fleeing in wild 
haste. 

On rushed the Confederates, and in the heat of the 
contest Captain Chetwood found himself confronted 
by a gleaming bayonet backed by a tall gray-coat. 

With his sword the captain swept aside the bayo- 
net, and then shot the man down with his revolver. 

Almost on the instant the Union captain stumbled 
and fell to his knees, a bullet carrying his revolver 
from his hand as he went down. 

Then a bayonet gleamed in his eyes. 

A tall Georgian had thrust forward his gun, and 
was determined to make sure of the Union captain 
for certain now. 

The Federals were fleeing like frightened sheep, 
and Captain Chetwood believed that his name would, 
appear in the column devoted to the slain in the daily 
papers after to-day. 


128 


A STUNNING SURPKISE. 


Spang ! 

A stunning report filled the ears of the Union cap- 
tain. 

The huge Southerner staggered, and the next in- 
stant fell, pierced through the heart by a bullet. 

Quckly, Captain Chetwood jumped to his feet, to 
feel himself jerked by the collar backward, and al- 
most forcibly dragged from the spot. 

“This way; run like the devil, boss, or you’ll lose 
yer grip and go under. ’ ’ 

The speaker was tall and lean, an awkward coun- 
tryman, whose smooth, sallow face and awkward 
movements, proclaimed him scarcely more than a 
boy in years. 

It was this man, or boy, who had saved the cap- 
tain’s life. 

The fellow’s blue breeches flopped about his thin 
legs as a bag might over a bean-pole. 

It was light enough now for the captain to see 
plainly, and he could scarcely repress an exclamation 
on discovering who his rescuer was. Such an awk- 
ward boy, to possess such masterly courage, when 
strong men were fleeing with terror on every hand. 

“Run, boss, run!” cried the man — w^e will call 
him a man since he was past eighteen — “the rebs are 
coming.” 

“Who are you — you saved my life?” cried the cap- 
tain. 

“I’m an Ohio boy, ” answered the awkward sol- 
dier. “Mebbe you never heard of Deacon Potter?” 

“Never!” 

“Well, he’s my dad just the same. I wan’t good 
for nothin’ at home, so I jined the army, one of the 
old regiments, and hev been trampin’ up an’ down 
these Virginny hills fur nigh a year. Come, come, 
boss; dig out, or the rebs’ll git ye!” 

The captain accelerated his speed, for he saw that 


STAMPEDE. 


12 » 


all hope for rallying the troops nearer than the hill 
occupied by the Nineteenth Corps was past. 

Beside the tall young Ohioan the captain ran, 
among the moving mass of fugitives. 

“That ar’ reb come nigh gittin’ the best of ye 
didn’t he, boss?” 

“Yes. You saved my life. I hope to know you bet- 
ter hereafter,” answered the captain. 

“I couldn’t a done no different,” said Potter. 
“Folks used to call me Tazy Andy up in Ohio, and a 
general good-for-nothin’ ! Seems ’mbetter’n a nobody 
here, eh, boss?” 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

STAMPEDE. 

“A great deal better,” answered Captain Chet- 
wood, to the last remark of the Ohio youth. “You 
are as brave as a lion, and ” 

“Now, look a here, colonel, this won’t do. Andy 
Potter han’t no great shakes, but he’s goin’ to do his 
level best ag’in the traitors. My father, ther deacon, 
didn’t think the war was right, anyhow. He kinder 
sympathized with the South. He’n I used to have 
some big arguments, and, finally, the last time, dad 
pitched onto me and flailed me like sixty. I didn’t 
resist, coz ’twouldn’t look well for a boy to strike his 
dad, you know. I lit out shortly with mother’s 
blessin’. I git letters from mother once in a while. 
She calls me — but, thunder! let’s git out o’ this, or 
we’re gone suckers!” 

The captain and his young friend had lagged in 
their gait, and the leaden pellets began to sing un- 
comfortably near their ears of a sudden, which 
brought forth this last exclamation from Andy Pot- 
ter. 


m 


BTAMPEDE. 


The twain quickened their pace, and soon found 
themselves in the neighborhood of the Nineteenth 
Corps, which had been warned by the yells and crash 
of musketry of the assault on the left, and was form- 
ing in line of battle to resist the onslaught of the foe. 

In wild disorder Crook’s troops fled down the turn- 
pike, and through the fields and woods, hotly pursued 
by the foe. 

‘‘See ’em run — what fools!” cried Andy Potter, as 
he came to a halt on the hill-side, where the front of 
a Union brigade was forming in line for battle. 

Crack — crack ! 

Along the crest of the hill puffs of smoke leaped 
up in spiteful jets, and leaden death messengers were 
hurled into the onrushing ranks of gray. 

The long rifle of Andy Potter fell to his shoulder, 
and he fired with precision. 

A gray-coat fell, pierced to the heart. 

The gun and bayonet attached, borne by the youth 
from Ohio, was one he had had made to order, and 
was an accurate piece, and a breech-loader, which 
made it more effective than an ordinary musket. 

“There goes another !” chuckled Potter, his eyes 
snapping. 

There was little use attempting to hunt up his 
command now, and Captain Chetwood concluded to 
remain with the Nineteenth Corps, and assist this 
brave body of Unionists in stemming the tide of 
Early’s victorious troops that was sweeping onwaid 
over the hills, and down the turnpike. 

“Hold the hill, boys, and we will soon check these 
fellows!” cried Captain Chetwood, as he seized the 
musket of a fallen soldier and took his place in the 
ranks. 

Beside him, his young face lighted with the ardor 
of battle, was Andy Potter, who was loading and fir- 
ing with the coolness and precision of a veteran. 

“A r^marakble boy,” thought Captain Chetwood, 


STAMPEDE. 


131 


who resolved to keep him in view during the day, if 
possible. 

Along the slope the blaze of musketry was deafen- 
ing, but above the roar of the strife arose the sharp 
screech of Early’s veterans — the yell that our men 
had learned so well. 

On they come, on and on, column after column of 
gray, an unending mass it seemed to the astonished 
Unionists, who, as yet, had barely got their eyes 
open. 

“Hold the hill, boys! We must check them here, 
else all is lost!” shouted Captain Chetwood, loudly. 

But, of a sudden, a new danger stared the men of 
the Nineteenth Corps in the face. 

Without attempting to break the line of battle 
formed loosely by the remnants of the Federal Army, 
the enemy poured on down the turnpike, and would 
soon be in the rear of the troop composing the Nine- 
teenth Corps. 

“Heaven ! we are to be surrounded !” 

A panic seized the Unionists, and soon the ragged, 
ill-formed lines broke and were again in retreat. 

A few guns were saved in the mad flight, but many 
were abandoned on the road, for the Confederates 
having gained a position on the flank of the Union 
troops, poured in a terrible fire from musket and 
field -piece. 

There was no stemming the tide. 

Soon the broken fragments of the Nineteenth 
Corps went in headlong flight toward the hill occu- 
pied by the Sixth Corps, where Wright was marshal- 
ing his troops to stay, if possible, the woeful wreck 
that Early had made in the front, and hold the enemy 
in check until the fleeing fugitives could be reformed, 
and brought into line of battle once more. 

“What in tarnation are they runnin’ for?’.’ cried 
Andy Potter, as the blue-coats broke and dashed at a 
mad run from the hill. 


132 


STAMPEDE. 


“Because the others do, I suppose,’^ answered Cap- 
tain Chetwood, biting his lips with vexation. 

“By gracious! I’d like to fight the hydra-heads, 
and send ’em back,” cried Andy, refusing to stir, but 
loading and firing as before. 

“Come!” cried Chetwood, quickly, laying his hand 
on the arm of his young friend. “You will be killed 
or captured if you remain here. Do you hear me?” 

“Hang it! I hate like pizen to give up this way!” 
growled Potter, still holding his ground. 

The captain and the young Ohioan stood almost 
alone now, with the yells of Gordon’s victorious col- 
umn ringing in their ears, the patter of leaden hail 
making most unpleasant music about their heads. 

“Quick, boy — this is madness!” 

The captain attempted to draw the youth forcibly 
from the spot. 

On the instant, the young Ohioan fell to the 
ground, with blood gushing from a wound in the head. 

^ “Ah, Heaven! he is dead! — killed by his own 
rashness,” uttered Captain Chetwood, as he saw the 
blood gush in a crimson stream over the sallow face. 

“Poor boy! By Heaven! they shall not have the 
body! I will rescue that or die in the attempt!” 

This was a mad resolve on the part of Captain Chet- 
wood, no doubt, but the boy had saved his life that 
morning, and the captain was warmly attached to 
him on that account. 

Snatching the body in his arms, Captain Chetwood 
rushed away, followed by a shower of leaden pellets. 

He left his musket, of course, and, with Andy Pot- 
ter across his shoulder, sped down the slope and 
across the fields, almost as fleetly as he would have 
done had he been without a burden. 

Soon he found himself surrounded by a seething 
mass of humanity, each individual factor striving to 
distance his neighbor in the race. 

And such a race ! 


STAMPEDE. 


133 


If I have a member of thatarmy among my readers, 
he will bear me witness that there was something 
pertaining to the disgraceful in that mad flight, some- 
thing akin to the madness that hurled our army in 
wild confusion upon Washington at an earlier day. 

Who was to blame? 

It is a question not in my province to answer. 

“You fool! What you carryin’ that stiff fur?’’ 

Captain Chetwood looked into the face of a bronzed 
veteran, who was making for the rear, and had no 
time to halt, even while he opened his lips in 
speech. 

The captain made no reply to this brutal remark, 
but kept on his way, and was soon beyond the hiss 
and clash of the bullets. 

The hill on which the Sixth Corps was encamped 
was now reached. 

The great mass of fugitives rushed on, regardless 
of every effort to rally them. 

Wright at once formed a new line of battle, and 
attempted to check the fleeing mass in their frightful 
rush. 

In a measure,, the commander of the Sixth Corps 
succeeded, and for a short space of time the onset of 
Early was staid. 

Captain Chetwood found himself under the shelter 
of a mountain oak, beyond the range of the conflict. 

In fact, a lull had come for the time. 

The Confederates were plundering the Union camps 
they had captured, and it gave the vanquished a 
breathing spell that was appreciated by the hard 
pressed boys in blue. 

Captain Chetwood laid his burden on the grass, 
which was yet damp with the dews of night, and 
gazed sharply about him. 

Not far away glittered the waters of a brook. 

This was a welcome sight, as the canteen worn by 
the young soldier was empty. 


134 


COLONEL TEAFTON FALLS. 


Stripping this from the body, Captain Chetwoood 
hastened to fill it with cool water from the brook. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

COLONEL TEAFTON FALLS. 

Chetwood had little expectation of rousing Andy 
Potter from the sleep which benumbed every limb. 

He had placed his hand over the region of the 
heart, and discovered that life was not yet extinct, 
and it was this discovery which led the captain to 
work over the silent form with desperate energy. 

The Ohio boy had saved his life once that morn- 
ing, and it was no more than honest gratitude on his 
part to do what he could for the brave youth. 

With water obtained from the brook. Captain 
Chetwood washed the blood from the face of Andy, 
and carefully examined the wound. 

There was no fracture of the skull, the captain be- 
lieved. 

A bullet had swept along near the base of the 
brain, cutting the scalp badly, and causing a great 
flow of blood. 

With his handkerchief. Captain Chetwood bound 
up the wound, which had now ceased to bleed. 

A groan rewarded the efforts of the Union captain 
at length, and in a little time Andy Potter opened 
his eyes, and sat up with a great cry. 

“The hydra-heads, where be they?” he cried, 
glaring about him in a fierce way, that told that the 
youth’s mind was still on the conflict in which he 
came so near his death. 

“You are safe, my brave boy, so don’t alarm your- 
self,” answered the captain, quickly. 

There was a sound of guns on the left, though in 


COLONEL TKAFTON FALLS. 135 

their present postition they were unable to see the 
conflict. 

“The fight still goes on,” muttered Andy Potter. 
“By gracious! colonel, I can’t stand this, ” and the 
young Ohioan sprang to his feet, only to reel and sink 
back to earth, weak and fainting. 

Yes, the boy had fainted, and lay once more a dead 
weight in the arms of Captain Chetwood. 

“Poor boy!” murmured the captain. “The excite- 
ment was too much for him in his weak condition. 
I must see about getting him off the field, and to a 
place of safety. We are not safe here, as the enemy 
may sweep over this ground at any moment. ” 

Seizing the fainting youth about the waist. Cap- 
tain Chetwood was about to lift him from the ground, 
when a loud shout attracted his attention. 

Releasing his burden, he crouched low, and 
clutched the revolver which he had found on the 
person of a dead officer but a short time before, his 
own having been, as the reader remembers, shot 
from his hand in the heat of battle. 

A ringing cheer swept up from a partially wooded 
field to the right, and a squad of Confederate cavalry 
dashed across the open field, making toward the spot 
where the sound of conflict was still heard. 

Captain Chetwood hoped to remain unseen, and, 
therefore, crouched very close to the ground. 

About, half way along the base of the hill had the 
cavalry passed, when an officer suddenly wheeled his 
horse from the line and rode directly toward the spot 
occupied by Captain Chetwood and his charge. 

“Ah, that fellow chooses to rush upon his doom,” 
uttered the Union captain, through close shut teeth. 

On spurred the Confederate — an ofiicer of rank, as 
the captain soon discovered. 

Evidently, he was intent on gaining the summit of 
the hill for the purpose of taking observations. 


COLONEL TRAFTON FALLS. 


m 

With bated breath, Captain Chetwood awaited his 
approach. 

“I will not shoot him down unawares,’’ thought 
the Union captain. “I wouldn’t mind securing that 
horse; he is a splendid animal. Ah! good heavens!” 

Captain Chetwood had made a discovery. 

The approaching officer had advanced so near that 
his face was plainly visible, and Captain Chetwood 
had recognized him. 

•It was Colonel Trafton ! 

The villain was coming directly upon him. There 
was no escaping the conflict that was sure to come. 

“Halt!” 

Captain Chetwood sprang upright and leveled his 
pistol at the head of the colonel. 

He drew rein at once. 

“Captain Chetwood!” 

“Exactly,” returned the Unionist. “You will 
oblige me, colonel, by dismounting at once. I want 
your horse. ’ ’ 

“I am sorry, but can’t oblige you,” answered the 
colonel quickly. 

Captain Chetwood saw the man’s hand fall to his 
holster. 

“Stop, or I will fire!” 

But the warning was unheeded by the Southerner, 
who drew his pistol and opened fire on the Union 
captain. 

Two leaden pellets went hurtling through the air, 
burying themselves in the ground behind Captain 
Chetwood ere he attempted to return the fire. 

The captain remembered the request of “Loyal 
Mose, ” that he would spare the colonel for his ven- 
geance, and on this occasion would have spared him 
had not he opened hostilities without ceremony, and 
forced the Yankee captain to retaliate. 

The Union officer’s right arm shot suddenly for- 
ward, a bit of fire leaped from the muzzle of his re- 


COLONEL ^rEAPTON FALLS. 


X37 


volver, then came a sharp report, and Colonel Traf- 
ton reeled and pitched from his saddle. 

With a snort of terror, the horse dashed madly from 
the spot. 

“You would have it, colonel,” uttered Chetwood. 
“The fortunes of war sent you to me and to your 
death, “hoyal Mose” ought not to complain.” 

A loud yell in the distance called the Unionist’s at- 
tention to the fact that several Confederate troopers 
were galloping toward him from the field below. 

He had no wish to contend, single-handed, against 
a score of gra)^-coats ; therefore, he bent and raised 
the fainting Andy Potter in his arms, and dashed rap- 
idly from the spot. 

As the Unionist ran along the hill-side a score of 
carbines were leveled upon him, and a volley of 
leaden pellets went hurtling after his retreating 
form. 

Not one of them touched him, however, and in a 
little time the captain disappeared from the sight of 
his pursuers over a ridge. - 

The pursuit was abandoned at the side of their fal- 
len colonel. 

Captain Chetwood broke through a clump of bushes 
to run upon a regiment of Unionists drawn up in bat- 
tle array. 

His coming was received with wild shouts. 

Quite exhausted from his recent exertions, the cap- 
tain deposited his burden on the grass, and the regi- 
mental doctor was called, who soon succeeded in 
bringing Andy Potter out of his swoon. 

“A blamed little fool!” 

This was Potter’s comment on himself when told 
of his fainting fit by Captain Chetwood. 

“Ah, my boy, there are few men who would not 
have fainted in your position.” 

“And how’d I git here out of the battle?” 

“I carried you. ” 


138 


COLONEL TKAFTON FALLS. 


‘‘I’d been deader’n a door nail before this time if it 
hadn’t a been for yon, Colonel ” 

“Not colonel, but captain, Andy, ” said the captain, 
interrupting the young Ohioan. 

“Well, you deserve to be*a general,’,’ asserted Pot- 
ter. “So I up an’ fainted jes like a gal. What a fool 
— what a fool! Dad would think I wasn’t good for 
nothin’, here’s well as to home, if he’d heard I 
fainted when I wasn’t hurt;” and the countenance of 
the young soldier assumed a lugubrious aspect. 

“But my dear boy, you were hurt, and badly. I 
thought at one time you would never look upon the 
sun again. ’ ’ 

Andy felt of his head, which was very sore, and 
ached badly. 

“Yes, that’s a fact; I did git a clip on the head; 
but I can’t see how ’t should effect me. Dad always 
said I hadn’t the brains of a wasp. Can anybody feel 
t’hout brains, col — captain, I mean?” 

The look on the questioner’s face was so comically 
serious that Captain Chetwood could not repress a 
laugh. 

“Well, you may laugh if you like,” cried the awk- 
ward youth ; “but if I’ve got brains, it’s the fust time 
I ever was aware on’t from feelin’.” 

“Every one has brains, more or less, Andy.” 

“Well, it must be I’ve got less. Ought to b’en a 
gal. An’t fit to fight if I tumble over in a swoon at 
smell o’ gunpowder.” 

Then Andy attempted to rise, but sank back from 
sheer weakness. 

“Weak’s a cat,” he groaned. “Confoundit! won’t 
I ever ’mount to anything?” 

“Hush, my boy!” cried Captain Chetwood at this 
point. “You are a brave fellow, and a worthy de- 
fender of the Union and the flag. Andy Potter, I am 
proud to know you!” 


THE “LOYAL TIGEKS.’ 


139 


And the speaker’s voice was husky with emotion 
as he finished. 


CHAPTER XXVL 

THE “loyal tigers.” 

As we have said, Wright formed a new line of bat- 
tle, and partially succeeded in checking the frightful 
rush of fugitives. 

The force of the onset now seemed very much 
spent, for the Confederates began to advance with 
more caution, and bring forward their artillery. 

Besides, the rich plunder of two, eamps was too 
tempting a prize for the half-starved troops of Early, 
and they left their ranks in crowds, and began to pil- 
lage. 

Had Wright known this, it is possible that he 
might have made a suceessful stand where he was, 
but the enemy having possession of the turnpike that 
led toward Winchester, he feared that his eomm uni- 
cations would be severed, and therefore fell baek 
toward Middletown. 

But this was somewhat later than the hour of Cap- 
tain Chetwood’s joining the command with his friend, 
Andy Potter. 

Although the Confederates were intent on securing 
the good things left in the Federal camp, they were 
still mindful of the fact that a portion of the Union 
Army still remained almost intact, and to render 
their victory complete, it would be necessary to break 
the lines of Wright and send him flying down the val- 
ley after the broken legions of Crook and Emory. 

Huge masses of the enemy soon moved upon the 
last position held by the Federals. 

“Make ready, boys, the rebs are coming!” 

This cry broke the hush that had rested over the 


140 


THE “LO^AL ^jOERS.’ 


hill for a time, where the Sixth Corps lay waiting for 
the onset of the foe. 

There was nothing to encourage them to resistance 
now, since the larger part of the army was flying in 
broken fragments down the valley. 

Andy Potter staggered to his feet ; but he was too 
dizzy to stand. 

Tears actually came to his eyes when he realized 
his condition. 

‘‘Weak as a cat, ” he groaned. “Leave me, captain, 
and give the hydra-heads goss. No use wastin’ time 
over a body like me. I an’t good for nothin’ nohow. ” 

“You’ll be all right soon,” cried Captain Chetwood, 
cheerily. “I will get you to the rear ” 

“No — no; go, cap’n. I’ll hate ye if ye don’t. The 
Johnnies is cornin’ ; I hear ’em yell. If I only had a 
gun, I might help a little, anyhow. Lost old breech- 
loader, didn’t I?” 

“Yes; but you couldn’t use a gun now if you had 
one,” said the captain. 

A long, loud, heaven -piercing yell was borne to 
their ears from the left. Then came the terrific crash 
of musketry, accompanied by the rumble and roar of 
the larger guns. 

The enemy was opening with artillery. 

A terrific charge was being made by the victorious 
brigades of Longs treet and Early. 

“Oh, gracious! what shall I do?” groaned poor 
Andy. “I han’t worth a cent ” 

But Captain Chetwood was anxious to have a hand 
in the fight, and he did not wait for the Ohio boy to 
finish his sentence. 

Seizing him in his arms as though he were but a 
child, he dashed away toward the rear, while the 
blue-coats advanced along the hill to repel the 
charge. 

Too weak to resist, Andy Potter could only groan 
and submit. 


THE “LOYAL TIGERS.” Ul 

Under a rock, beyond the crash of battle, Captain 
Chetwood placed his young friend. 

The crash of battle was ringing in his ears, and he 
was anxious to enter the conflict, and strike a blow 
for the Union, where, against odds, Wright’s veterans 
were struggling desperately. 

“When the fight is over I will return. Don’t leave 
this spot. Good-by, Andy, and may God protect the 
right.” 

Then Captain Chetwood turned and rushed away 
to the left, and toward the seething vortex of bloody 
conflict. 

Before the young Unionist had gone far, his steps 
were held by the loud clatter of hoofs and clang of 
accoutrements. 

A magnificent body of Union cavalry was dashing 
forward to enter the fight on the left, where the shot 
and shell of the enemy were doing their terrible work. 

The solitary man in blue, armed with sword and 
revolver, attracted the attention of the commander of 
the Union cavalry, and when within a few rods, the 
command to halt rang along the line. 

Captain Chetwood uttered a glad cry, and sprang 
forward, soon gaining the side of the captain who led 
the magnificent company, now numbering six-score 
horsemen. 

The small, pale-faced man, with sombre hair and 
eyes, who sat upon his steed like a centaur, was not 
unknown to the Union captain. 

“ ‘Loyal Mose !’” was the captain’s glad cry, as 
he reached the side of the cavalry commander, and 
grasped the thin white hand extended to meet his. 

For a moment neither spoke. 

There was an outflow of gladness that was too full 
for words. 

Captain Chetwood was the first to break the silence. 

The crash of the conflict warned him that it was 


U2 


THiE “LOYAL TIGEKS.’ 


high time he was at the front, and he was anxiuos to 
go. . ^ ^ 

‘‘You escaped after all?” said the captain i. “I con- 
fess that I was deeply troubled on your account, 
Moses. ’ ’ 

‘‘So deeply that you failed to come around and in- 
quire,” retorted ‘‘Loyal Mose,” with a low laugh. 

‘‘I declare ” 

‘‘Not a word, my dear Royal. I know all you 
would say. Duty held you in other parts. Of course 
I knew this, and besides, if I had been killed that day 
of course your returning would have been worse than 
useless; but I escaped. How, do you think?” 

‘‘I cannot even guess.” 

“Bertha ” 

“What, did she ” 

“She saved my life a second time. She’s a brave 
girl, Royal, one worthy to become a general’s wife. 
I swear,’! came near falling over ears in love with 
her myself. ” 

“Why didn’t you?” 

“Two considerations' prevented. ’ ’ 

“Ah!” 

“She was in love, but not with me, and I — well, I 
left a girl in Maryland, Rose Anderson; perhaps 
you have heard me speak of her? No? Well, it’s a 
fact ; but this will never do ; I must to the front, and 
give the traitors a taste of cold steel. I hope to meet 
Colonel Trafton ” 

“You will not meet him, Moses.” 

“Why not? Such a thing is not impossible.” 

“Quite impossible,” answered the captain. “Colo- 
nel Trafton is dead.” 

“Dead! Are you sure?” 

“I am; I killed him mysclf. ” 

“Loyal Mo.se” seemed amazed at the news. 

“Captain Chetwood, I thought you promised to 


Me “LOYAL TIGERS.* 


li' 

leave this miscreant to the vengeance of a wronged 
son and brother? Have you so soon forgotten?” 

“No. It was his life or mine, Moses Bluff.” 

“In that case you are excusable, but I did hope to 
have the pleasure of shooting the scoundrel ; but if he 
is dead, my revenge must go.” 

The young cavalry leader straightened in his sad- 
dle, glanced to the left, where the smoke of battle res- 
ted, and from whence came fugitives in blue, rush- 
ing northward to swell the flood that was glutting the 
highway, overflowing into the fields and woods in a 
continuous stream. 

“Forward, boys!” 

“Loyal Mose” drew and waved his sword aloft. 

Captain Chetwood saw sparks of fire flash from 
under the heels of the “Loyal Tigers” as they dashed 
into the fray. 

Down across the highway the column of blue 
dashed, a loud cheer echoing and re-echoing along 
the hill, as the gallant troop dashed into the smoke 
and flame. 

Soon the brave company was lost to view in the 
smoke of battle, and Captain Chetwood hurried for- 
ward to join the struggling lines of infantry. 

The Confederates surged forward with furious yells, 
firing as they advanced. 

The din of the conflict was at its height when Cap- 
tain Chetwood entered the smoke that hung over the 
contending armies, and hurriedly advanced into the 
throng of blue-coats, who were manfully breasting 
the tide of gray that had thus far this day swept irre- 
sistibly onward. 

To the front, where the bullets fell like hail. Cap- 
tain Chetwood made his way. 

It mattered not to him that he was not with his 
own regiment. That had broken and gone to pieces 
on the first assault, <ind its helpless fragments were 
now drifting down the valley in wild disorder, while 


144 


A SAD SCENE. 


one of its officers was at the front determined on doing 
his duty at whatever cost. 


CHAPTER XXVIL 

A SAD SCENE. 

It was a wild and terrible scene that fell on the eye 
of Captain Chetwood as he pushed his way to the 
battle front. 

Forward with the rush of an avalanche the gray 
brigades came, yelling like demons let loose from the 
lower regions. 

Frightful was the uproar, awful the slaughter, as 
bullets and bayonets did their work, and piled the 
reeking sod with dead and dying. 

“Hold the ground, boys; the salvation of the army 
depends upon you!” shouted the captain, as he passed 
along the front. 

The crash of guns, and shrieks of the dying, welle 
up from the struggling hosts. 

“ A thousand glorious actions that might claim 
Triumphant laurels, and immortal fame, 

Confus’d in clouds of glorious actions lie. 

And troops of heroes undistinguished die.” 

The heavy guns, some of them but lately captured, 
belched forth iron hail and hissing shell upon the 
Federal lines, and it was a wonder indeed that Wright 
was able to hold his own, and hurl back the furious 
charge that swept with wild fury upon him. 

He did hold his own. 

The furious charge was turned back in repulse. 

A cheer, rather of thanksgiving than of victory, 
welled up from the battered lines of blue, as the gray 
ranks receded before their fire, and rolled back some 
distance from the scene of the awful struggle. 


A SAD SCENE. 


145 


Now came a breathing spell for the Sixth Corps, 
enabling them to form their lines with a view to cov- 
ering the flight of the immense crowd of fugitives 
that darkened all the fields and the highway in the 
rear. 

Nevertheless, this was but a pause in the conflict. 

Early had won a great victory, and broken the 
splendid army into fragments that Sheridan had led 
up the valley to victory from Opequon to Fisher’s 
Hill and beyond. 

How changed the scene ! 

The victorious banners of the Union are, in one 
short hour, hurled back, and the great army of Sheri- 
dan cut in twain, scattered into fragments, almost 
utterly dispersed — no, not utterly, for the gallant 
Sixth Corps still holds its organization intact, and 
falls slowly and sullenly back, covering the disgrace- 
ful route as best it can. 

Amid the roar of artillery, incessant volleys of 
musketry, and shouts and yells of the pursuers, were 
heard the cries and screams of teamsters, as they en- 
deavored to get off with the heavy train. 

It was a scene of the wildest confusion. 

Shells fell and exploded amid horses and wagons, 
tearing the animals to pieces, rending wagons, and 
slaughtering the drivers mercilessly. 

There was no help for it. The Federals were re- 
treating, and-sopn the ground now occupied by the 
Union heroes would be swarming with gray-coats. 

Instead of assaulting with the bayonet. Early 
posted his artillery in such a position as to pour a 
merciless storm of shot and shell into the Union 
ranks, and beyond, into the demoralized mass that 
was rushing down the valley in a manner that was 
plainly devoid of hope. 

The day was lost. 

To escape from the fearful fire of those guns and 


146 


A SAD SCENE. 


bring together once more the shattered remains of the 
Union Army, was now all that could be done. 

It was, indeed, a time of deep humiliation on the 
part of Sheridan’s troops. 

The glory of the past month was being literally 
torn from the hands of the Federal Army, and deep 
disgrace was apparently to settle over the Union 
cause in the valley of the Shenadoah. 

Captain Chetwood, who had passed through the 
storm of shot and shell thus far uninjured, bethought 
him of his young acquaintance of the morning, the 
awkward Ohio boy, Andy Potter. 

He was as weak as a cat, as he himself expressed 
it when the captain left him. 

Soon the gray battalions would sweep over the spot 
where the captain had left the young man, and he 
might either fall into the hands of the enemy, or die 
by a bullet. 

To avert such a catastrophe. Captain Chetwood 
resolved to get the youth from the field to a place of 
safety. 

When the Union lines began to recede. Captain 
Chetwood hastened to the rear, and pushing his way 
through a mass of fugitives, soon gained the vicinity 
of the spot where he had parted from Andy Potter 
but a very brief time before. 

Soon the rock behind which he had placed Andy, 
came under his eye. 

Quickly Captain Chetwood sprang forward, and 
stood beside the rock. Andy Potter was not there. 

“I told him not to stir from this spot,” muttered 
Royal, “but it seems he did not obey me. If he has fal- 
len into the enemy’s hands, it is his own fault. I have 
done what I could for the young fellow.” 

The shriek of shells filled the air, and these terrible 
projectiles were exploding not far away. 

Near where Captain Chetwood stood lay the forms 


A SAD SCENE. 


U7 


of three Union soldiers, mangled and dead, literally 
torn to fragments by shells. 

Andy Potter was nowhere to be seen. 

Off to the left a pandemonium seemed in full 
blast. 

Teamsters, soldiers, horses, wagons, and caissons 
rushed pell-mell in one confused mass. 

Dead horses, broken wagons, and provisions were 
scattered about promiscuously. Guns, knapsacks and 
coats lay everywhere, flung aside by the Unionists in 
their mad flight. 

It was a second Bull Run, and no mistake. 

lyOngstreet and Early had seemingly planned well, 
and given coup de grace to the Army of the Shenan- 
doah. 

Thus it appeared to Royal Chetwood, as he stood 
regarding the wild scene before him, with the growl 
of the artillery, the crack and crash of the musketry, 
and shrieks of exploding shells making hideous music 
in his ears. 

“I suppose I may as well follow the crowd, solilo- 
quized the Union captain. “It would be idle to search 
for Andy now. If not dead, he has probably es- 
caped. ’ ’ 

“Weak’s a cat, boss. Will ye give me a ride?” 

Quite startled. Captain Royal Chetwood at the sound 
of a voice not far away — a voice that could come from 
but one human being in the world. 

“By Heaven! there’s Andy Potter now, or I’m a 
fool!” 

Andy Potter it proved to be, sure enough, begging 
a ride of a teamster, who was just springing to saddle 
the wagon, which had been lightened of the most of 
its load, that the mules attached might move with 
greater speed. 

“No time to wait!” shouted the teamster. 

The youth from Ohio, though “weak as a cat,” 
caught the edge of the box, and, as the wagon dashed 


148 


A SAD SCENE. 


on, drew himself over the side, and rolled upon the 
floor in the dirt. 

Captain Chetwood, who was to the left, and a little 
in advance of the moving team, bounded suddenly 
forward, down on the incline, and succeeded in inter- 
cepting the wagon. 

In the twinkling of an eye the captain grasped the 
edge of the box and drew himself over, gaining his 
feet behind the driver. 

“Too many. Git out — git out, I tell yer!” and the 
Jehu turned and laid his whip over the cowering 
form of poor Andy, who, with the breath nearly 
jolted from his body, was rolling about on the bot- 
tom of the high box. 

“Stop that, you infernal coward!” 

The wrath of Captain Chetwood was at once 
aroused. 

“Touch that boy again, and I’ll kill you!” 

To give complete emphasis to his words. Royal 
Chetwood thrust the muzzle of his revolver in the 
face of the driver, who cowered instantly, and began 
begging for mercy. 

“Drive on, then, to Middletown, and hold your 
peace.” 

Away, over the rough giound, went the wagon, 
jolting and bounding, while Captain Chetwood turned 
to Andy Potter, and asked him how he felt. 

“Weak’s a cat, boss,” groaned the young Ohioan. 
“I an’t good for nothin’ — not a thing. Dad always 
said so, too. Here I am, runnin’ like a greaser, when 
I ought to be fightin’ like a man for the flag. ” 

“You’d do better than the rest of us, then, my 
boy,” said the captain. “The whole Union Army is 
on the run. ’ ’ 

“It is a plaguey shame, captain.” 

“It is, indeed. If Sheridan had been here, this dis- 
graceful r6ut would not have happened, in my 


IN THE ENEMY’S HANDS. 


149 


opinion, y uttered Captain Royal Chetwood, and he 
fully believed the words he uttered. 


; CHAPTER XXVIIL 

I 

IN THE enemy’s HANDS. 

Early was still assailing the left flank of the Union 
Army with great fury. 

Merritt and Custer, with two divisions of cavalry, 
were sent over to check the foe. There was a wide 
expanse of wooded field near Middletown where our 
troops rushed to the fray. 

Strengthened by the captured artillery, the Confed- 
erates brought their overwhelming batteries to bear 
on our exhausted columns, shaking them into frag- 
ments. 

Captain Chetwood remained with Andy Potter un- 
til assured that he was beyond danger, and with a 
hearty handshake and good-by, the gallant captain 
left him and once more turned his face to the front. 

Royal Chetwood felt the disgrace of the rout keen- 
ly, as much so as did any officer in the army, and was 
ready to do anything, even to entering the ranks and 
bearing a musket in the fray, if by so doing the vic- 
torious foe could be checked. 

The Union Army was falling back beyond Middle- 
town, while the cavalry was doing its utmost to cover 
the retreat, and check the furious onset of Early’s 
legions. 

Captain Chetwood was liot long in discovering a 
riderless horse ; these were numerous enough on that 
fateful day, and mounting, the gallant captain dashed 
over the swelling ground to the front. 

A thrill of conscious power shot through the heart 
of Royal Chetwood as he found himself well mounted 


150 


IJN THE ENEMY’S HANDS. 


on a mettlesome and powerful steed, who sniffled the 
battle from afar, and seemed anxious to enter the 
fray. 

But he could be no more anxious than was his new 
master. 

Captain Chetwood soon gained the summit of a hill, 
from which he could look down upon the Middletown 
meadows. 

What a sight met his gazae ! 

Below, in the wooded field, the crash of battle was 
at its height — a confused mass of dashing horsemen, 
marching infantry, gleaming bayonets, and flash of 
musketry and carbines. 

The din was awful. 

The earth trembled under the heavy discharges of 
artillery ; while the shouts of the combatants were 
heard above the roar and crash of arms. 

For a moment Captain Chetwood paused, ere rush- 
ing headlong into this woeful confusion. 

Merritt’s and Custer’s brave boys were struggling 
there, holding in check the flower of Southern chiv- 
alry, while Sheridan’s routed veterans were falling 
rapidly back to assume i. new lease. 

It was a grand sight, thrilling to the last degree. 

Tightening his rein, the Union captain spoke to his 
horse, who, with a fierce neigh, dashed down toward 
the scene of conflict. 

Soon horse and rider were lost to view in the smoke 
of battle. 

Forward among the gallant heroes of Merritt’s di- 
vision Captain Chetwood passed, and soon found him- 
self in the midst of the fray. 

In one part of the field the cavalrymen were dis- 
mounted, and fought from behind trees, Indian fash- 
ion. 

Union lead cut through bones and muscle, and 
many a gray-coat was sent to his long last account. 

“Give it to ’em Hail Columby I” shouted a stout 


IN THE ENEMY’S HANDS. 


151 


blue-coat, not twenty feet from where Captain Chet- 
wood was firing his revolver into the foe. 

“Hold the Johnnies back. Give it to ’em — give it 
to ’em !” 

Leaden pellets struck the trees, and pattered like 
rain-drops through the wood. 

Men were falling on every side. 

Ever and anon the wild, fierce screech was heard 
reverberating along the skies. 

“Hold them back, boys! — hold them back!” 

An officer’s voice rang over the field. 

The fight was waxing hotter each moment. 

The Unionists had no thought of winning the vic- 
tory ; only to hold the enemy in check for a brief 
time, until the army could form outside the confusion 
of battle and prepare to meet the foe in battle array. 

Captain Chetwood’s horse seemed to enjoy the ex- 
citement, and became imbued with the spirit of the 
contest, dashing forward into the thickest of the fray. 

This might be a commendable thing in the brute, 
but when the animal insisted on carrying the 
Yankee captain beyond the front, into the enemy’s 
lines. Captain Chetwood did not appreciate the steed’s 
bravery. 

In vain he jerked the rein. 

For a time the animal seemed: crazy, and became 
utterly unmanageable. 

“Look out thar! Don’t go thar!” was the warning 
cry of a soldier. 

Chetwood was not anxious to “go thar,” but his 
horse dashed forward in spite of all his efforts to 
prevent. 

The horse had been hit by a bullet, and was crazed 
so that neither hand nor voice of the rider had any 
power to stay the animal’s movements. 

Beyond the Union line, directly into the muzzles 
of guns, the horse dashed, before the astounded cap- 
tain had time to throw himself from the saddle. 


152 


IN THE ENEMY’S HANDS. 


“Raic, Yank!’’ 

A dozen bayonets gleamed in the face of Captain 
Chetwood, but he did not halt. 

He could not. 

With furious bounds, the crazed steed dashed on, 
breaking through the line, going on and on like the 
wind of a cyclone. 

Several shots were fired after the onrushing horse 
and rider. 

Many of these took effect. 

The horse plunged to earth in the agonies of death, 
and before Captain Chetwood could extricate himself 
from the saddle, he was surrounded by a score of 
Confederate infantrymen. 

“Wall, Yank, I guess you’ll surrender now.” 

“I must needs bow to the inevitable,” answered 
the Union captain, with a forced laugh. 

“What the devil sent you over at such a rate of 
speed, young feller?’’ 

“I am racing on a wager,” answered the captain, 
with grim humor. “There were men who said I 
couldn’t break through your lines and live. I have 
proved that those fellows lied.” 

“Fact, by thunder!” 

The captain was well to the rear of the line, and 
out of the smoke of conflict. He had run the gantlet, 
and might have escaped if his horse had not failed 
him at the last minute. 

For this failure the brute was not to blame, how- 
ever, since nearly a dozen balls had found lodgment 
in his body. 

There was not an officer among the gray-coats who 
had captured Captain Chetwood, and he was sub- 
jected to the most violent badgering. 

“We’ll take your sword and pistol, Yank,” said a 
lank Xouisianian. “You an’t safe with them shootin’- 
irons. ” 


IN THE ENEMY’S HANDS. 


153 


Of course, the captain suffered himself to be dis- 
armed without resistance. 

“Now then, them boots.’’ 

“Sit down, Yank, we’ve got ter hev ther boots.” 

“But this is outrageous,” protested Captain Chet- 
wood. 

“No back talk, young feller. We ’uns is runnin’ 
this affair. ” 

The captain sat upon the body of his horse and 
suffered his boots to be drawn from his feet. 

“Pretty good suit o’ clo’s; guess we’ll take ’em.” 

In spite of the captain’s ill-concealed wrath, his uni- 
form, even to his pantaloons, was stripped from his 
person. 

The blue clothes were distributed among the gray- 
coats, and their cast-off garments flung at the captain. 

If ever a man was indignant that man was Captain 
Chetwood at that moment. 

“Dress up, cap, ef yer don’t want ter go naked.” 

“You insolent dog! Your commander shall hear of 
this!” cried the Union captain, exploding with. rage. 

This outburst was met with a sneering laugh. 

The captain found that threats of reporting the 
men only provoked laughter, so that he finally con- 
cluded to make the best of a bad bargain, and donned 
the cast-off garments. 

Thus rigged out, he presented the appearance of a 
good-looking Confederate soldier. 

After a little thought, the prisoner concluded that 
the exchange had not been a bad one after all, as in 
his present guise, he might be able to make his es- 
cape, whereas, in Union blue, he would stand little 
show. 

While he was debating the situation and looking 
down at his bare feet — for the soldiers had taken his 
stockings as well as boots — a single horeman dashed 
from a clump of trees near, and rode up to the group 


154 


CHARGE AND COUNTERCHARGE. 


of Confederates. His head was bandaged, and he 
seemed to, be an officer of rank. 

“I will appeal to this officer,” thought the captain, 
but on a nearer approach, Chetwood concluded that 
an appeal to the new-comer would be wasted. 

He had recognized the man. 

It was Colonel Ezra Trafton ! 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

CHARGE AND COUNTERCHARGE. 

The sight of the colonel was surprising, to say the 
least. That is, Captain Chetwood was surprised to 
meet a man whom he believed he had shot dead but 
a short time before, and consequently he gave vent to 
that surprise in a long stare, accompanied by a 
whistle. 

“Ha! this is my old friend, Captain Chetwood,” 
ejaculated the guerrilla colonel, the moment his eyes 
rested on the face of the Union captain. “I am more 
than pleased to meet you, captain, I am delighted ; 
and you have joined the Confederates, too ; well, 
this is good.” 

There was a sneer on the colonel’s lip, a flash of 
devilish enmity in his black eyes, as they were bent 
in a piercing gaze on the prisoner. 

Of course the colonel knew how Chetwood came to 
be in his present garb. One glance around among 
the Confederate soldiers there assembled would tell 
the story. 

“You seem to be a prisoner, captain.” 

“I seem to be,” admitted Chetwood. 

“Exactly. I think I will take you under my pro- 
tection. We are such great friends, and I am so desir- 
ous of knowing that you are well. .You thought I was 
numbered with the clods of the valley, captain?” 


CHARGE AND COUNTERCHARGE. 


155 


hoped so. ’’ 

“I knew it. You tried to murder me, but the bul- 
let an’t molded that is to find the life of Colonel 
Trafton — ha, ha, ha!” 

“Be not too sure. Colonel Trafton,” returned the 
captain. “The battle is not yet over. You may die 
before the setting of to-day’s sun. ” 

‘ ‘ Bother your nonsense 1 ” ’ snapped the colonel . “I 
don’t believe you will ever see another sun. You will 
not if I know myself. ’ ’ 

While the colonel was talking, a dozen mounted 
gray-coats came dashing up to the spot. 

They were members of Tiafton’s command. 

“Boys, we’ve got more work to do,” cried Trafton. 
“I learn that “Traitor Mose” and his troop have en- 
tered the fight, and we must meet them. I wish to 
wipe that villain and his gang of dutlaws from the 
face of the earth. ” 

“Ay, ay!” was the reply. 

“First, however, comes another matter,” pursued 
the colonel. “We have here a Yankee spy. I wish 
you to conduct him to a secluded spot in the rear, say 
the big rock near Paulding’s farm. After the fight I 
will meet you there, and settle this fellow’s case.” 

“All right, colonel. ” 

Then Trafton detailed six men to take Captain 
Chetwood to the rear, while he proceeded to rejoin 
his command, in company with the remainder of the 
squad. 

“Good-by, captain; I will see you later;” and the 
colonel lifted his hat and bowed mockingly toward the 
Union officer, exposing the blaod-stained bandage 
more fully as he did so, which gave . Chetwood the 
knowledge that his bullet had come near terminating 
the life of the villain. 

“Loyal Mose” supposed the colonel dead, and 
would not be on his guard. 

“Go to the front, colonel,” muttered Chetwood; 


156 


CHAKGE AND COUNTERCHARGE. 


“when you return, if you should return, you will not 
find me waiting for you to hang — not if I know my- 
self, and I think that I do. ” 

Captain Chetwood was lifted to the saddle, in front 
of one of the six cavalrymen, and borne away to the 
rear, beyond the crash and roar of the conflict near 
Middletown. 

The fight on Middletown Meadows was a furious 
one, and one of the first to enter the fray was “I^oyal 
Mose, ” at the head of his gallant troop. 

The fight was well-nigh over when Colonel Traf- 
ton, at the head of two hundred men, dashed along 
the fields in search of his enemy, the loyal boy of 
Virginia. 

The colonel had no wish to participate in the strug- 
gle, further than to swoop down upon and crush 
Moses Bluff. 

No; the brave colonel was more at home raiding 
wagon trains, or chasing Union families from home 
and burning their houses. In this latter work he had 
become a terror to females and little children, whose 
male defenders were in the Union ranks fighting for 
the old flag. 

“Hurrah ! the Yankees are on the run again !’’ 

This shout was taken up and repeated a score of 
times, as the veterans of Merritt and Custer began to 
retire. 

Long, loud, and shrill rang the Confederate yell 
above the din of strife. 

“Going back — running like cowards, and I have 
not yet met the man I hate,’^ cried Colonel Trafton, 
swinging his sword aloft, making the air about him 
blue with oaths. 

“Look you, kunnel,’’ cried out a man who rode at 
the Confederate raider’s side. “Thar’s pickin’s for 
ye. ” 

The smoke of battle had lifted, and through the 
trees, a squad of Union cavalry was moving. 


CHAflGE AND COUNTEECHARGE. 157 

The whole squad did not number two score, and at 
their head rode a youth of effeminate cast of coun- 
tenance, with sallow face and waving masses of black 
hair. 

Colonel Trafton gave a slight start as he caught 
sight of the slim figure that rode at the head of the 
Union troop. 

Merritt and Custer were falling back, and this 
squad of Unionists was evidently reconnoitering a bit 
on the flank, before following the rest of the army in 
retirement from the bloody field. 

Colonel Trafton needed but one glance at the leader 
of the Union troop to satisfy himself of the truth. 

“Loyal Mose” was before him, and with but a 
handful of men. 

Now was the time to sweep his foe from his path 
forever. 

Every man in Colonel Trafton’s command beheld 
the Unionists at the same time, and a shout ran along 
the line as Colonel Trafton pointed with his sword 
toward the moving troop. 

“Yonder are the Virginia traitors! Forward, lads, 
and give them no quarter!’’ 

With a yell that would have done credit to a band 
of Indians, the cavalrymen dashed forward, and soon 
the crack of carbines rang loudly through the woods. 

Almost insane with joy at the prospect of crushing 
his most deadly foe. Colonel Trafton galloped for- 
ward at the head of his troop, yelling like mad. 

Yells are not always deadly weapons, however. 

In this case they did not prove so. 

The squad of Unionists had discovered the enemy 
almost, if not quite as soon, as they had been discov- 
ered by the foe. 

Two-score of carbines were suddenly leveled, and 
when the two hundred raiders dashed forward, a long 
sheet of red flashed in their front, and two-score of 
guns awoke the echoes of the wood. 


15$ CHAKGE AND COUNTERCHAKGE. 

It was a deadly volley. 

Fully a score of saddles were emptied, and the man 
who had ridden beside Colonel Trafton fell, pierced 
to the heart. 

As he went down his head struck the pommel of 
Trafton ’s saddle, and the warm life-blood of the dy- 
ing raider plashed in the face of his commander. 

At the same instant a leaden pellet grazed the col- 
onel’s cheek, sufficiently close to start the blood. 

The wild yell died on the lips of the gallant colo- 
nel. 

This was something not down in the bills. 

With a masterly effort, he reined in his horse, and 
gazed after his rushing troops in dismay. 

Crack, crack, crack! 

The woods seemed alive with Yankee marksmen. 

On all sides his own troops tumbled, and soon the 
onward sweep of gray-coats was checked. 

Back in wild confusion they came. 

No voice of command bidding them face the other 
way. Ah, no, for Colonel Trafton had drawn out of 
the dangerous whirlpool in time to save his own pre- 
cious neck. 

He remembered the words of Captain Chetwood, 
and was not yet r^ady to lay down his life for the 
cause. 

Pell-mell, in wildest confusion, they rushed back 
over the ground they had lately crossed. 

The Unionists had been reinforced by some of Cus- 
ter’s men, which accounted for the furious offensive- 
ness assumed by them. 

The Federals did not pursue ver)^ far, however. 

The main army was falling back from Middletown, 
and prudence forbade such a course. 

Colonel Trafton was glad to retire from the field, 
leaving “Uoyal Mose” and his Tigers masters of the 
situation. 


SHERIDAN’S RIDE. 


169 


They in turn were obliged to retire and follow the 
retreating columns of the Union. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

SHERIDAN’S RIDE. 

Sheridan, on his way back to the army, had slept 
at Winchester, twenty miles distant, the night before. 

In the morning, little dreaming of the terror reign- 
ing in his camp in front, he sat down to his breakfast, 
and after it was finished, he mounted his horse, and 
with his escort rode leisurely forward. 

His noble aimy had been struggling on the brink 
of destruction for four long hours. 

The gallant leader knew nothing of the change that 
had taken place so unexpectedly in the situation of 
affairs. 

When he left the valley for Washington, Early’s 
army was almost a thing of the past, and Sheridan 
had not the slightest expectation of an attack so soon 
after posting his men along Cedar Creek. 

The unexpected is often the most likely to occur, 
as it did in this case. 

The Unionists, shattered and hard pressed, made 
only a short stand at Middletown, and the army 
passed on in full retreat toward Newtown, five miles 
in the rear. 

On the heights around the former place. Early 
planted his batteries, which poured in a terrible fire 
on the uncoveied army as it slowly fell back along the 
highway and across the fields. 

As Sheridan rode leisurely forward, the rumble 
and jar of the heavy guns on Middletown heights 
caused him to look up in surprise. 

Still he felt no uneasiness, for he was confident that 


160 


SHERIDAN’S RIDE. 


if Early had attacked his strong position at Cedar 
Creek, he would be terribly beaten. 

On rode Sheridan with the calmness of one riding 
out for a pleasure trip. 

As the thunder of distant guns grew louder and 
more continuous, and was evidently rolling back 
toward him, his practiced ear told him too well that 
a heavy battle was raging in front, and that his army 
was retreating. 

Startled from his composure, as the terrible truth 
flashed upon his brain, he dashed the spurs into his 
horse, and was soon far ahead of his escort, tearing 
madly along the road. 

Louder, deadlier than before, came the boom of 
distant cannon. 

The earth seemed to vibrate under him as Sheridan 
swept furiously onward. 

A deep presentiment of evil possessed the brave 
chief as he tore furiously down the road toward the 
sound of conflict. 

Soon a sight met his strained vision that confirmed 
his wildest fears — men in Union blue rushing in the 
headlong flight down the lioad. Camp-followers and 
fugitives without number. 

“Men, what does this mean?’’ Sheridan demanded, 
sternly, his eye flashing fire. 

“The army’s bu’sted, gen’ral. Therebs are coinin’ 
full-tilt!” cried a fleeing private, who was well-nigh 
winded by his anxious endeavors to escape from the 
devastation at the front. 

For a moment the great commander sat on his 
horse like one bereft of sense. The truth seemed too 
near impossible for belief. 

What ! his noble army, that only a few weeks be- 
fore he had led twice to victory, broken, shattered, 
gone? 

In a moment the lion in his nature was roused, ^nd 


SHEBIDAN’S RIDE. 


161 


instead of being overwhelmed at the disaster, as most 
generals would have been, he rose above it. 

“It shall not be so!” he mentally exclaimed. 

Once more he planted the rowels into his steed, 
and dashed on down the road toward the scene of con- 
flict. 

As he advanced, the cloud of fugitives augmented. 

Men were running down the valley hatless, without 
guns or knapsacks, having thrown aside all incum- 
brance, that they might escape the deadly bullets of 
the foe. 

It was disgraceful. 

Sheridan felt it was so, keenly. 

As he sped on, the cloud of stragglers deepened, 
and the general believed it time to exert his influence. 

Snatching his hat in hand, Sheridan swung it over 
his head and shouted : 

“Face the other way, boys! face the other way! 
We are going back to our camps ! We are going to 
lick them out of their boots!” 

It was the cry of a man determined to retrieve the 
disasters of the day, if such a thing were possible. 

There was a vast amount of magnetism about Phil 
Sheridan that carried men with him in spite of them- 
selves. 

The frightened stragglers paused and shouted as 
they beheld their gallant chieftain flying past. 

That was a notable ride, and the name of Sheridan 
— our Sheridan — will live long in song and story, as 
well as on the page of history. 

Sheridan’s ride from Winchester to meet and turn 
back his fleeing, dismayed army, is one of the grand- 
est things in all history, and we would fain linger 
over the scene, but time and space forbid. 

Many of the wounded who had escaped from the 
heat of the battle, and fallen to die by the road-side, 
lifted their heads, while their eyes caught sight of 


162 


SHERIDAN’S RIDE. 


their returning comrades, and sent cheers after his 
flying form. 

“God save the general!’* 

“Little Phil has come!’* 

“The Johnnies’ll catch it now!” 

Such and like expressions followed the dashing 
leader as he whirled on his way up the valley. 

On at break-neck speed, past fields and woods, and 
bush-clad hills, dashed the intrepid commander — on 
and on, shouting for the fieeing troops to face about 
and stand by their guns once more. 

The enthusiasm gathered volume as the little man 
in shoulder-straps swept on. 

That one man’s confident assurance was contagious.. 

The soldiers caught the fever, and the retreat was 
halted. 

Men who had not flung aside their muskets 
paused in their wild, unreasoning flight, to look after 
the little man on horseback, and lean on their guns. 

“Sheridan has come! Sheridan has come!” 

Like magic, the cry ran from lip to lip, and new 
courage seemed suddenly to be infused into the reck- 
less, frightened rabble. 

“By hokey, boys, let’s go back!” 

A tall soldier uttered the words as he stood staring 
after the swift-flying heels of the gallant steed that 
bore Sheridan on that twenty -mile ride up the Shen- 
andoah Valley that October day. 

Many a firm “we will” answered the first speaker. 

On swept Sheridan through the deepening crowd 
of fugitives. 

His cry of “Face the other way, boys!” acted like 
magic, and soon the stragglers halted; and many 
were not only facing the other way, but going back 
in the wake of the great commander. 

Back once more to face the insolent victorious foe. 

With face blazing with excitement, and his horse 
covered with foam, Sheridan suddenly appeared in 


SHERIDAN’S RIDE. 


163 


front of the astonished army, and at once ordered the 
retreat to stop. 

The enemy had paused in his pursuit, so that our 
army was, at this time, out of the range of his guns, 
which enabled Sheridan to take measures to arrest the 
fugitives and bring them back, and in a short time he 
had a new line of battle formed. 

Then the task of infusing the beaten army with 
new life and courage devolved upon the brave young 
commander. 

Up and down the lines rode this modern Murat, 
giving words of cheer to men and officers alike. 

His presence reassured the men. They had confi- 
dence in him, and his coming was far more to those 
beaten, disheartened battalions than an army with 
banners. 

“Boys,” cried Sheridan, “if I had been here this 
never would have happened ; I tell you this never 
should have happened ; and now we are going back 
to our camps. We are going to get a twist on them. 
We’re going to lick them out of their boots.” 

Not very elegant language, perhaps, but it was 
plain, and to the point, and given with an emphasis 
not to be misunderstood. The boys in blue could 
understand the meaning of such language. 

In answer, they gave ^ vent to shouts and cheers 
that rent the very heavens. 

Although the brave soldiers had eaten nothing 
since the night before, and been fighting for five 
hours, they felt a new strength infused into them by 
the confident bearing and language of their heroic 
commander. 

For two hours Sheridan continued the task of rid- 
ing up and down the lines, injecting cheerful words 
into the ear^ of his soldiers. 

The gloom of the morning was fast passing away, 
and new life seemed infused in every arm, new hope 


164 


SHERIDAN EXCITED. 


gleaming from every eye, as Sheridan’s homely speech 
went home to their hearts. 


CHAPTER XXXL 

SHERIDAN EXCITED. 

The Eoyal Tigers had participated in some of the 
fiercest fighting of the day, and many of the brave 
Virginia rangers had gone to their long, last account. 

When Sheridan appeared jipon the scene, “Eoyal 
Mose” uttered a glad cry, for he believed the gallant 
general who had won so many brilliant victories, 
would persuade the Unionists to make a bold stand 
and hold their ground hereafter, at least. 

‘‘Boys, do you hear that cheering?” 

“Bet yer boots, cap’n!” 

“We’d be deaf ef we couldn’t,” chimed in a sec- 
ond ranger. 

The Loyal Tigers were halted under some trees, 
and the stentorian cheers that rolled up in thunderous 
volume from the rear, across the fields, and went rever- 
berating along the heavens, meant something. 

“Boys, those cheers mean something!” cried 
“Loyal Mose.” 

“You bet!” put in another Tiger. “Them fellers 
yell as though they felt mighty good, though I can’t 
see what it’s fur. Ef gittin’ licked like the duse is 
somethin’ to feel glad over, then I kin see whar the 
yellin’ comes in.” 

“It’s not that!” cried “Loyal Mose,” who had an 
inkling of the truth. 

Soon his suspicions were confirmed. 

Down a lane, between two long lines of blue, a 
horseman swept, hat off, his hair blowing loosely in 
the wind. 


SHEKIDAN EXCITED. 


166 


The eyes of all the Toyal Tigers were turned upon 
the coming horseman. 

‘‘Teetotal thunder ! who’s that cornin’, as though 
the devil had histed him?” 

Thus cried out one of Bluff’s troopers, as he craned 
his long neck and peered sharply at the coming horse- 
man. 

Louder, deeper, more shrill grew the cheers. 

Hats and caps were waved, guns brandished, and 
general enthusiasm prevailed. 

“Holy angels! it’s Sheridan!” cried one of the 
rangers, with an emphasis that was felt. 

“Sheridan, by the powers!” 

“Hats off, lads! Let’s give the general a rouser!” 
cried “Loyal Mose, ” as the Federal commander 
dashed down toward them. 

“Hip, hip, hurrah!” 

Such a stentorian shout went up from near five- 
score throats as to shake the tree-tops. 

Sheridan noticed the troop of rangers, with their 
blue tunics and wide-rimmed hats — they attracted 
him — and he galloped down to their front and drew 
rein. 

“Boys, we are not going to retreat any farther. 
This is a disgrace ; it never should have happened. 
We are going back to camp — back to Cedar Creek !” 

The rangers listened while the Union commander 
talked rapidly to them, emphasizing his remarks 
with sharp gesticulations. 

“That’s ther talk, gin’ral, we won’t run. We’ll 
foller yer to Hades ef ye say so.” 

“We’ll go back !” cried Sheridan, “back to our 
camps. We will get a twist on the traitors that’ll 
make them squirm. They are plundering our camps 
now, and won’t expect much %ht from you, but I 
tell you we’ll win this battle yet — I tell you we will. ” 

“You bet! That’s ther talk!” 

“My men have not been affected by the stampede. 


166 


SHERIDAN EXCITED. 


not in the least/’ said “Loyal Mose, ” at this point. 
“We are ready to enter the fight at a moment’s 
notice.” 

“The notice will soon come,” answered the gen- 
eral. “I see that you know and will perform your 
duty. This has been a disgraceful rout; how it could 
have happened is more than I can imagine. If I had 
been here it would never have happened.” 

Then Sheridan wheeled his horse and rode away to 
encourage the men in other parts of the field. 

“Them rebs is goin’ to smell somethin’ they don’t 
expect, ” uttered one ranger, after the departure of 
the commander. 

“Do you think so. Bob?” 

“You bet! We’re goin’ back, an’ don’t ye forgitit, 
boys!” 

The confident demeanor of Sheridan had inspired 
the most ignorant with courage, and the morale of 
the army had risen fifty per cent, within the last half- 
hour. 

“Loyal Mose” felt elated at the prospect. 

Now that Sheridan had come, a new order of 
things was to be inaugurated. 

At length the Confederate Army was seen advanc- 
ing across the fields, moving straight on the position 
held by the Nineteenth Corps. 

Sheridan sent word to Emory to stop them at all 
hazards. 

Once m .re the smoke and crash of battle held the 
scene. At a word from “Loyal Mose,” the rangers 
dashed down and entered the fight. 

Bullets whistled on every side, but what cared 
these brave defenders of the flag for danger. It was 
for the Union and the flag the hardy mountain men 
fought, and under the leadership of such a man as 
Moses Bluff they were heedless of danger. 

The contest was not long, but it was sharp and ter- 
rible. 


SHEKIDAN EXCITED. 


167 


“ Down went many a gallant soldier, 

Down went many a stout dragoon ; 
Lying'^rim and stark and gory 
On the crimson field of glory, 

Leaving us a noble story, 

And their dark-cliffed home a boon. • 

“Hurrah!” 

Up and down moved the gleaming sabres of the 
Virginia rangers. 

The contest was almost over, and Early’s gray reg- 
iments were worsted, going back with decimated 
ranks from the hotly contested field. 

Then it was that a loud cheer welled up from 
throats not used to cheering in battle strife before that 
day. 

It was the hearty Northern cheer that proclaimed 
them the victors, and no doubt astounded the lately 
victorious, confident foe. 

“Charge, lads! Down with them!” 

The voice of “Eoyal Mose” rang sharp and clear 
above the battle din. Then, like an avalanche, the 
rangers swept down upon the foe, yelling like demons 
let loose. 

Through the gray ranks the rangers crashed, rid- 
ing down those who failed to get from under. 

Striking right and left, the blue tunics made sad 
havoc in the gray. 

It would be dangerous to follow too far, and soon 
the bugle sounded the recall. 

The enemy had met with their first repulse of the 
day, and was doubtless considerably astonished. 

Emory immediately sent an aid to Sheridan with 
the news that the enemy were repulsed. 

“That’s good — that’s good!” laughed Sheridan. 
“Thank God for that! Now, then, tell General 
Emory if they attack him again to go after them, and 
follow them up, and sock it into them and to give 
them the devil !” 


1G8 


SHERIDAN EXCITED. 


And, with almost every word, bringing his right 
hand down into the palm of his left with a sharp 
blow, he added : 

“We’ll get the tightest twist on them you ever 
saw; we’ll have all those camps and cannon back 
again.” 

Whether aware of Sheridan’s arrival, or astounded 
at the new and formidable line of battle that appeared 
before him, while a large part of his own army was 
rioting amid the camps, at all events Early at once 
abandoned the offensive and fell back, and began to 
throw up breastworks, evidently designing to hold the 
position till next day, which, by all ordinary rules, 
should be the earliest moment that our hungry, ex- 
hausted and discomfited army could be ready to make 
any movement. 

But Sheridan had no intention of waiting until his 
army was thoroughly reorganized and recruited. 

Right then and there he was deterimned to wipe 
out the stigma of this disgraceful defeat, and make 
the same dispatch that carried the news of the over- 
throw of his army also carry the thrilling news of its 
glorious victory. 

While Early was falling back and throwing up 
breastworks, Sheridan was preparing for an onset all 
along the line. 

It was a time fraught with the utmost moment to 
our army and to the American people. 

Sheridan understood the situation well, and had 
resolved on risking everything in one grand, deter- 
mined assault upon the victorious foe. 

It must not go to the North — news of his army’s 
utter defeat, with the victorious foe marching down 
the valley toward the Potomac. No; Sheridan was 
resolved upon a desperate effort to retrieve the for- 
tunes of the day. 


LOOKING INTO HIS OWN GRAVE. 


169 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

LOOKING INTO HIS OWN GRAVE. 

We must not lose sight of Captain Royal Chet- 
wood in dwelling upon army movements. 

He has occupied a prominent place in our war 
drama, and will continue to do so to the close. 

When he was taken to the rear in charge of six of 
Mosby’s rough riders, the young captain felt anyway 
but happy. 

His situation was not a pleasant one, the reader 
will admit. 

He did not fear his guard, but well knowing the 
unscrupulous character of Colonel Trafton, he real- 
ized that only his death would satisfy the brevet-colo- 
nel from South Carolina. 

“I must escape!” 

This was what the Union captain decided upon, 
but it is often easier to plan than to execute. Resolv- 
ing and doing are widely separated. 

At least half a mile in the rear of the field where 
fighting was going on, the Confederate cavalrymen 
passed, then turned to the left and entered the woods 
that grew profusely along the edge of a field. 

Beside a gurgling brook a moss-grown rock reared 
its head, and here the cavalry squad came to a halt to 
await the return of their leader. 

They had not long to wait, not so long as they ex- 
pected. 

In less than twenty minutes after entering the 
woods. Captain Chetwood saw several horsemen ap- 
proaching. 

The captain had been lifted from the saddle, and 


170 


LOOKING INTO HIS OWN GEAVE. 


was closely watched by the six men, each holding a 
revolver in hand, ready for instant use. 

Colonel Trafton had proclaimed him a spy, and 
such persons are usually considered desperate charac- 
ters, which accounted for the severe watch kept on 
the captain by his captors. 

Chetwood was not long in doubt as to the identity 
of the coming horsemen. 

Colonel Trafton soon appeared, and springing from 
the saddle confronted his prisoner. 

A dozen of his troopers had followed the colonel 
into the woods, while others were gathering in the 
cleared field beyond. 

“Did you bring the scalp of ‘Loyal Mose^ with 
you?” questioned Captain Chetwood, a peculiar smile 
raising his blonde mustache as he faced the colonel. 

“Fire away with your smart speeches,” growled 
the Southerner. “You won’t have many minutes to 
hiss your venom in the faces of gentlemen. ” 

“Indeed! What has come over you now, colonel?” 

“I’m not in a mood for bandying words,” retorted 
his enemy, bluntly. 

Then he called one of his men aside, an officer, ap- 
parently, and conversed with him for some minutes 
earnestly. 

“lam sure it will be all right, colonel. Mosby will 
approve. ’ ’ 

“It wouldn’t be safe to give the fellow his freedom, ■ 
and to attempt to hold him a prisoner for any length 
of time would be to give him a chance for escape. I 
shall proceed at once to do my duty.” 

“Quite right, colonel. As Davy Crockett said, ‘Be 
sure you’re right, then go ahead. ’ In this case, you 
are certainly right. ’ ’ 

A part of this conversation came to the ears of Cap- 
tain Chetwood, enough to assure him that he was the 
subject of conversation, and that the colonel was anx- 


LOOKING INTO HIS OWN GRAVE. 171 

ious to commit a murder without coming under the 
ban of military law. 

The colonel had no conscience to satisfy, and was 
only consulting his fears when he debated with a 
brother officer, regarding the manner of disposing of 
his prisoner. 

Soon the colonel came back and faced Captain 
Chetwood once more. 

“Well, what have you decided upon, colonel?” 
questioned the Union captain, coolly. 

“To put you out of the world with the least dis- 
patch possible. ’ ’ 

“In other words, to murder me.” 

“Nothing of the kind,” answered the villain, with 
a grim smile. “You are a spy ” 

“You know better than that. Colonel Trafton, ” 
Chetwood interrupted, sharply. 

“I know what I am about, all the same,” retorted 
Trafton. “I don’t propose to accept advice from 
you.” 

Then the colonel came nearer, and stood by the 
side of the prisoner. 

“I have two enemies in the world, you and ‘Traitor 
Mose. ’ I propose to remove them.” 

“Murder them !” 

“As you will,” he growled. 

“But I am an officer in the service of the United 
States. You have no right to take my life, save in 
open battle. I am a prisoner, and should be treated as 
one — a prisoner of war.” 

The captain would fain argue ths case, hoping to 
influence Trafton to spare his life. Why he wished to 
destroy him was not exactly plain to the mind of the 
loyal officer. 

A brutal sneer curled the lip of Ezra Trafton. 

He hated the captain with a bitterness that was be- 
vond reason. 

This was how he would do it. He could shoot or 


172 LOOKING INTO HIS OWN GBAVE. 

hang the Unionist, then pretend sorrow for it after- 
ward if any trouble should come. 

The Union captain must die as a spy — he must die 
at all hazards. 

“I don’t mean to be hard with you, Captain Chet- 
wood,” said Colonel Trafton, in a soft voice. “You 
and I are comparative strangers. We met for the first 
time a few years ago ; that acquaintance has not 
ripened into love, I assure you. Nevertheless, I like 
you better on continued acquaintance; but duty, 
stern and grim, bids me put aside my feelings in this 
case. It is my duty to see that you do no more spying 
for the Yankees. My men will dig your grave here, 
under one of these trees, and the murmuring breezes 
will sing a requiem over your tomb. ” 

“You infernal villain!” 

“There, that will do. You ought to thank me for 
being so kind, so thoughtful of your good,” pursued 
the villain, with ironical devilishness. “If you fell 
in battle, your body might lay for days on the field, 
to be picked at by birds of prey, and at last your car- 
cass find lodgment in a hole where hundreds of the 
smis culottes are thrown indiscriminately.. Your fate 
is better. This huge rock shall be your headstone, 
and your name shall be delicately carved in its flinty 
surface. You will have a most enduring monument, 
captain. Upon the whole, I think you ought to thank 
me for my kindness. ’ ’ 

The prisoner made no reply. 

Colonel Trafton turned away, and issued orders to 
his men, who went at work with their sabres, scoop- 
ing a hole in the ground not far away. 

It was an ominous work, and Captain Chetwood 
could not repress a shudder. 

He looked about him for an opportunity to escape 
from the doom worked out for him by the scheming 
and heartless colonel. 

No such opportunity presented itself. 


LOOKING INTO HlS OWN GEAVE. 173 

Four men stood within a few feet, with drawn 
volvers, ready to shoot him down at a moment’s 
warning, while the remainder of the squad not at 
work were formed in a circle near, with carbines in 
hand, as if anxious and aching for the murder to 
take place. 

Soon the excavation seemed large enough, and of 
sufficient depth to suit the workers, and they paused 
and announced the first act in the wretched drama at 
an end. 

* ‘We will now ring up the curtain on the next 
scene, ’’ cried Colonel Trafton, meaningly. 

He then waved his hand, and a man advanced with 
a handkerchief to blindfold the prisoner. 

Captain Chetwood motioned him back. 

“ket me die with my eyes open, at least!” he cried. 

“Well, I’m not particular,” grunted Colonel Traf- 
ton. 

In spite of the prisoner’s remonstrance, however, 
the Confederates bound his hands behind him, and 
then led him to a tree that stood on the verge of, the 
shallow grave. 

“Your time has come. Captain Chetwood,” said 
Colonel Trafton, in a low tone. “We are in the rear 
of Early’s army, your men are in rapid flight, and it 
is absolutely impossible for help to come from any 
quarter. I hope you are resigned. ” 

“This is murder; that is all I have to say.” 

“I am sorry to see you so bitter,” answered the 
colonel, as he left the side of the doomed man and 
took his place beside his second officer. 


174 


NED BEIGHT’S WORK. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

NED BRIGHT’S WORK. 

“One minute for prayer, my dear captain,” cried 
the colonel, in a voice of sneering sarcasm. 

“Are you ready, boys?” 

This, on seeing that Captain Chetwood made no 
move nor uttered a word. 

“Ready! Take aim!” 

Six carbines fell to a level with the breast of Royal 
Chetwood. 

He closed his eyes to await the fatal shot. 

Clatter — clatter — clatter ! 

A single horseman came dashing down through the 
woods and gained the scene just as Colonel Trafton’s 
“take aim” fell on the air. 

“Hold! Up with your arms!” 

Clear as a bell came the voice, not heavy for a 
man’s. In fact, the rider of the steed was nothing 
but a boy, with fine, flashing eyes. 

The command to fire was not given just then. 

The new-comer’s steed*was flecked with foam, and 
the flush of excitement filled the boy’s cheeks. 

“Well, what is the matter now?” demanded Colo- 
nel Trafton, angrily. 

‘ ‘ Is yonder man Captain Chetwood ?’ ’ 

“He is.” 

“I suspected as much. You then are Colonel Traf- 
ton, of Mosby’s command?” pursued the boy, fixing 
his eyes in a steady, unflinching gaze on the face of 
the leader. 

‘ ‘ Right again , ’ ’ growled Trafton. ‘ ‘ Explain your 
business at once. ” 

“I was instructed to place this in your hands.” 


NED BKIGHT’S WORK. 


175 


It was a folded note, with “Colonel Trafton” 
hastily scrawled on the back. 

Opening it, this is what the colonel, by brevet, 
read : 

“CoivONEiv Trafton : — You will come witji your 
command to my headquarters at once. This is impera- 
tive. If Captain Chetwood is still in your hands, turn 
him over with guard to bearer of this, who will see 
that he is taken care of. You will lose no time in com- 
plying with this order. Jubar Early.” 

A frown darkened the face of Colonel Trafton when 
he read this strange missive. 

But that it came from the general he could not 
doubt. Some grave need there was for his presence at 
headquarters. 

He did not stop to question how the Confederate 
commander came to know that a Union captain by 
the name of Chetwood was in his possession. Per- 
haps some one who had witnessed the capture and 
had heard the captain’s name had given the informa- 
tion. 

The execution was at once staid. 

It would be dangerous now to go forward with this 
order from his superior officer in his hands, and with 
deep regret the colonel prepared to obey the wishes 
of the commander-in-chief. 

He detailed six men to accompany the prisoner and 
the young messenger. 

“You have a respite for the present. Captain Chet- 
wood, but it will be for but a short time. I will see 
you again later. In the meantime, I have instructed 
these men to shoot you down on the first sign of an 
attempt to escape. ’ ’ 

“Thank you, colonel; I shall not attempt to es- 
cape. ’ ’ 

Once more one of the Confederate horses was made to 


176 


NED BRIGHT’S WORK. 


carry double, and the six troopers moved through the 
woods toward the turnpike under the guidance of the 
boy. 

lyieutenant-colonel Trafton mounted his steed, and 
was soon riding down beyond .Middletown Meadows 
in search of Early’s headquarters. 

Captain Chetwood was puzzled, decidedly, at the 
course events were taking. 

On the very brink of the grave, this lad had ap- 
peared, and snatched him from eternity. What did it 
mean? What did that slip of paper contain? 

Captain Chetwood ’s hands were released from 
bonds, and he felt easier than before. When the little 
party gained the road, the soldier who acted as guard 
over Chetwood, rode beside the boy. 

“Now, what in the world does this mean?” cried 
the Union captain, in no little astonishment, address- 
ing the bright-faced youth who had been the means 
of saving his life. 

“It means that you are to go to Richmond. If you 
have acted the spy you will be there condemned and 
executed,” uttered the youth, rather vehemently, the 
captain thought. 

“I am no spy,” asserted the prisoner, 

“That remains to be seen.” 

“Where will you take me now?” 

“To a safe place, where there are other men of like 
ilk, ’ ’ returned the boy, spiritedly. 

“Which is indefinite,” thought the captain, al- 
though he did not utter this sentiment aloud. 

The party had proceeded but a short distance when 
the boy led the way to the left, and plunged into the 
woods. 

The cavalrymen followed unsuspiciously. They had 
been instructed to follow wherever Ned Bright should 
lead. 

The youth had thus given his name, and, there- 


NED BEIGHT’S WOEK, 


177 


fore, turned from the highway with the utmost confi- 
dence. 

As it happened, these six raiders were unacquainted 
with this portion of the Shenandoah" Valley, else 
they would certainly have suspected that young 
Bright was not traveling toward the rear. 

Matters were badly mixed that day, and but few of 
the combatants could tell whereabouts in the wide 
world they were to bring up before the sun should set. 

Ned Bright led the way through woods and across 
fields, for miles, seemingly, and, in truth, this was, 
much to the surprise of the prisoner, as well as to the 
wonder of the guard themselves. 

“How much furder, bub?” 

“Just a little. Colonel Woodford’s regiment is 
guarding prisoners down here aways. ’ ’ 

They were in the woods now, but suddenly came, 
to an opening, and ran upon a line of soldiers drawn^ 
up as if in preparation for battle. 

“Holy sailor! the Yankees!” 

It was true ; the little party had run unexpectedly 
upon a line of the newly formed army of the Union, 
and it was now too late to escape. 

The six cavalrymen “caved” when a score of mus- 
kets were leveled upon them. 

Captain Chetwood was once more a free man, and 
to Ned Bright he owed his life. 

When the captain explained the situation. Bright 
was not detained, but the six raiders were pulled 
from their horses and sent to the rear. 

Preparations were making for a battle. Sheridan 
had come, and a new order of things prevailed. 

Captain Chetwood soon learned this much, and he 
felt that it would not be a hard matter to find his own 
company now. 

Before seeking his place in the line of battle, he 
spoke with the boy, Ned Bright. 

“You saved my life, my boy, and I cannot be too 


178 


NED BKIGHT’S WORK. 


fateful for the service. If there is anything I can do 
for you ’’ 

‘‘There is nothing,’’ the boy interrupted, quickly. 

“Will you answer a few questions?” urged the cap- 
tain. 

“If I can.” 

“What did that note contain that you placed in the 
hand of Colonel Trafton?” 

“It was an order from General Early, commanding 
the colonel to appear before him at once, and turning 
Captain Chetwood over to the bearer of the note.” 

“It was not a genuine order?” 

“A clever forgery, or swindle, rather,” and the 
boy showed his milk-white teeth in a smile. 

“This was all done for my benefit?” 

“It was.” 

“Yet you are a stranger to me. It was risking 
much for one unknown to you.” 

“Granted.” 

The boy seemed unwilling to enlighten the cap- 
tain further, but Chetwood was determined to solve 
the mystery, if possible. 

“How should you know that I was a prisoner? 
How know my name and needs?” questioned the cap- 
tain. 

“Easy enough. One of your friends told me. It 
was at his suggestion that I forged the letter with 
Early’s name attached. I confess that I had little faith 
■ji the plan working, but it did, to my entire satisfac- 
ion. ” 

“Who was this friend?” 

“Andy Potter.” 

“Ah ! then you have met the boy?” 

“Yes. He is in line of battle somewhere. lean 
answer no more questions, captain. We will meet 
again, perhaps. In the meantime, try and keep out 
of the clutches of Colonel Trafton. He is a villain of 
the first water. ” 


THE BATTLE RESUMED. 


179 


And before Captain Cbetwood could question the 
handsome youth further, he clapped spurs to his 
horse and galloped rapidly away. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

THE battle resumed. 

Preparations for a move all along the Union line 
were completed by half-past three in the afternoon. 

At this time Captain Royal Chetwood had failed to 
find his command. 

“My soul !” ejaculated the captain. “It must be 
that the — the regiment was captured in the fight this 
morning. ’ ’ 

Meeting some members of the regiment, his worst 
f'^ars were confirmed, and as there was no time for a 
prolonged search, the Pennsylvania captain resolved 
to enter the ranks and participate in the coming 
struggle ; not as an officer, but as a private. 

In one of the companies in the front line, the cap- 
tain found a place, where, musket in hand, he felt 
himself ready to strike as a common soldier for the 
Union and the flag. 

At length came the order for a general advance — 
the drums rolled along the line, the bugles pealed 
out, and heralded by the deep-mouthed cannon, the 
steady battalions moved forward.# 

It was a magnificent sight, the solid advance of 
that, but just now, fugitive host. 

Emerging from the woods that had concealed it, 
the Union Army swung boldly out into the open field, 
and moved swiftly forward toward the Confederate po- 
sition. 

In the front line marched Captain Chetwood, mus- 
ket in hand, as anxious as any one of that host to 
wipe out the woeful disgrace of the morning. 


180 


THE BATTLE EESUMED. 


As they advanced, white puffs of smoke shot up 
along the front. 

Boom ! boom ! boom ! 

The deep-mouthed cannon were silent on the en- 
emy’s side no longer. 

Round-shot came whistling down upon the ranks 
of the Union, while the shrieking shells made music 
that was far from pleasant. 

“Steady, boys!” 

Tramp! tramp! tramp! 

The long lines of blue moved majestically forward 
into the smoke of battle. 

Captain Chetwood’s musket fell to a level with the 
others in his line. 

“Fire !” 

Like lightning, a gleam of fire ran along the Union 
front, and a steady crash of musketry ensued. 

The Confederates were in a strong position, and 
their batteries now opened briskly, while the infan- 
try poured in a furious shower of musket-balls, that 
withered the Union front as a scorching flame licks 
up the prairie grass. 

The men on either side of Royal Chetwood fell, 
mortally hurt. 

“Forward, boys, forward!” 

Still, on pressed the ranks of blue. But it w^as like 
rushing into the jaws of death. 

“Forward, boys, forward!” 

Again rang the cry of the officers along the front. 

The hill seemed one blazing furnace now. 

Shot and shell and musket-balls were hurled with 
fatal effect into the advancing lines of blue, and soon 
the Unionists halted, and actually staggered back- 
ward. 

The day is not to be retrieved after all. In vain has 
been Sheridan’s appeals. 

The hungry, tired, disheartened troops cannot do 
more. 


THE BATTLE RESUMED. 


181 


They have faced lead, and stood firm for a time ; 
but it could not last, and once again the Union line 
wavers, and is going back in confusion. 

“Hold your ground, boys! Come on! — come on!” 
shouts Captain Chetwood, who, forgetting that he is 
only a private now, rushes ahead of the reeling line 
and brandishes his gun above his head. 

An answering shout goes down the line. 

For a moment the men gather new strength from 
the intrepid actions of the soldiers in front. The line 
braces itself and stands firm. 

“Come on, boys, and the day is ours!” shouted 
Chetwood. 

On the instant the Confederate batteries opened on 
this part of the line with grape, piling the ground 
with, mangled forms, mowing great swaths in the 
ranks of blue. 

‘ ‘ Hold your ground ! Forward ! ’ ’ 

Captain Chetwood, unharmed, for a wonder, still 
urges the shattered line to press on. 

But this appeal falls on deaf ears now. 

And it was well that it was so. In other parts of 
the field the Union line, rent by shot and shell, was 
going rapidly back. 

No help, no hope now, it seemed, for the Unionists. 

They could but fall back and wait another day ere 
assuming the offensive. 

It would seem prudent so to do at least. 

But the commander of the Union forces was not of 
ordinary mettle. 

Back went the shattered lines, and amid a rain of 
musket-balls, that buzzed and hissed like bees about 
his ears, Captain Chetwood followed the retreating 
line. 

“Hello, captain! Where did you pop from?” 

Captain Chetwood had stumbled upon Andy Potter 
in his retreat. 

The Ohio boy bore a smoking musket, and about 


182 


THE BATTLE BESUMED. 


his waist were strapped a long cavalry sabre and pis- 
tols. 

He presented a strange appearance, and on a less 
serious occasion the captain would not have restrained 
his mirth. 

“I’m glad to meet you again, Andy,” cried the 
captain, as he grasped the ycuth by the hand. “So 
you have recovered from your weakness and are on 
the fight once more?” 

“I’m powerful weak yet, captain,” asserted the 
young Buckeye ; “but I’ve seed Sheridan, and he’s 
convinced me that we can lick them yit. I don’t 
s’ppse I’m more exhausted than the rest of ther boys. 
If they kin fight on empty stomachs, I ’low I kin. 
When I was to home I alius hunted the ccws. No 
feller in the Miami bottoms as could hold a candle to 
Andy Potter huntin’ cows. It’s a fact, if I do say it, 
col — captain, I mean. Even dad hed to knock under 
thar, an’ say Andy waz just good fur a cowboy, an’ 
nothin’ else. Ef he goes to war the fool’ll run ’fore 
he smells gunpowder, he will, says dad ” 

“I can bear testimony to the fact that you have 
done well to-day. Potter. I don’t believe there’s a 
braver man in the army, ’ ’ Chetwood interrupted. 

“Sho! don’t go pokin’ fun at me, captain.” 

“It’s the truth, my boy.” 

“Lord! and I’ve been weak’s a cat all day. If I 
hadn’t got that rap on the head, captain, I might 
amounted to somethin’.” 

The two men, unmindful of the fire, were moving 
at a walk across the field on the return. 

There was not a cooler man on the field than Andy 
Potter, great, lank, awkward-looking fellow that he 
was, and Captain Chetwood could not help admiring 
his coolness under cicrumstances calculated to shake 
the strongest nerves. 

‘ ‘ Hello 1 Look thar 1 ” 

As they went back a horseman was seen moving 


THE BATTLE EESUMED. 


183 


rapidly through he Union lines, his hands in motion, 
gesticulating violently. 

‘‘Who can it be?” 

“By ginger! it’s the gen ’rail Don’t you see?” 

Captain Chetwood bent his gaze sharply upon the 
little man riding furiously amid the broken ranks. 

“Don’t you see? It’s Sheridan!” 

“Yes, it is indeed the commanding general,” ut- 
tered Captain Chetwood. “He is appealing to the 
men. ’ ’ 

It was true. 

The sight of his army falling back before the fire 
of the enemy roused Sheridan almost to frenzy, and 
galloping amid the broken ranks, he, by his thrilling 
appeals and almost superhuman efforts, restored 
order;, and, although his few remaining cannon 
could make but a feeble response to the overwhelming 
batteries in front, he ordered the advance to be re- 
sumed. 

And our friends found the Union troops moving 
into battle line once more, overflowing with enthusi- 
asm under the magnetic appeals of the little man, 
who had ridden that day in hot haste from Win- 
chester to the rescue. 

It does not seem possible that one man could exert 
such influence — such power over the many. 

With one exception, the world has not seen, in 
modern times at least, a man like Sheridan — a gen- 
eral who could so enthuse his soldiers. 

The exception is, of course, the Little Corporal, 
who rose, meteor-like, on the horizon of Europe near 
the close of the last century, and swept the face of 
the old world with fire and blood, his ambitious hopes 
crushed finally and forever on the historic field of 
Waterloo. 




184 


VICTORY. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

VICTORY. 

‘‘Wall, captain, we’ll take a hand in this, I ex- 
pect, ’ ’ uttered Andy Potter, drawing his sabre and 
waving it above his head. 

“To be sure,” answered the captain. “I wish I 
could see Mose. Have you met him to-day, Andy ?’ ’ 

“Mose?” 

“Moses Bluff — ‘Eoyal Mose,’ some call him.” 

“Now I know who you mean,” cried the Buckeye. 
“I’ve seed the feller ridin’ like thunder at the head 
of his men, more’n once this day. He’s a terror ag’in 
the rebs. Many’s ther one as has fell before him. 
That’s what they say, boss, that’s what they say. I 
han’t acquainted with ther feller — be you?” 

The captain admitted that he knew “Eoyal Mose,” 
and that reports regarding his bravery were not exag- 
gerated. 

“He’s what Uncle Jose would call a hoss on 
wheels,” ejaculated Andy. “Hope I may hev the 
honor of meetin’ this — this wheels on a hoss. I ” 

‘ ‘ Here they come. The line of battle is advancing. 
Are you ready, Andy?” interrupted the captain, sud- 
denly. 

“Always ready, ’cept when I’m weak’s a cat!” 
cried the Buckeye, again flourishing his sabre. 

Then, for the first time, he seemed to notice that 
his companion was armed with a musket, without 
side-arms of any sort. 

“See here, captain, what are you kerryin’ a gun 
fur? An’t you an officer?” 


VICTORY. 


185 


I am.” 

“Wall, you don’t need to kerry a gun, I reckon. 
Here, take my sword. ’ ’ 

Captain Chetwood refused, good-naturedly, to ac- 
cept the ponderous sabre. 

Throwing back the skirt of his coat, he revealed 
the butt of a revolver to the youth. 

“Gun and pistol is all I need. Come, Andy, we 
must not lose the chance to participate in this charge. 
The boys are going forward.” 

“Hooray for the Union!” 

Andy Potter was alive to the occasion at once. 

Again the Union lines advanced, infused with new 
courage by their gallant leader. 

Boom I boom I 

Once more the great guns of disunion bellowed on 
the afternoon air. 

Side by side, Andy Potter and Captain Chetwood 
kept step to the music of the Union. 

Above the long line of blue billowed the old flag, 
which was now advancing to victory or flnal defeat. 

Then the Confederate breastworks blazed with mus- 
ketry, and a storm of leaden pellets swept once more 
over the blood-soaked field. 

“Steady, boys, we’ll rout ’em this time.” 

Not a man flinched, but with gleaming eyes and 
compressed lips, pushed forward in the face of the 
belching batteries, the flaming crest. 

On and on went the Unionists. 

Nearer and nearer drew the line of blue to the 
flaming tide. 

This was a time that tried men’s souls, indeed, a 
time that was to determine the weal or woe of Sheri- 
dan’s Army of the Shenandoah for all time. 

Without flinching, inspired by the example of 
Sheridan, the Unionists swept forward into the jaws 
of death. 

Soon the earth trembled under the awful crash of 


186 


VICTORY. 


great guns, and the very air seemed a-tremble with 
the great volume of musketry firing. 

On went the old flag, rent and stained with battle 
grime, on to the foot of the crest ; on, on up the slip- 
pery incline, through a storm of iron hail and leaden 
rain. 

‘‘Charge!” 

The order had come for the final effort for the over- 
throw of Early’s embattled legions. 

Above the roar of musketry came the long-drawn 
yell of the Union charge. 

On, with the rush of an avalanche, swept the 
Union host. 

The Confederates must have been astonished, in- 
deed, when the lately broken, fleeing Federals came 
pouring down upon them in a fierce charge that was 
irresistible. 

The artillery ceased suddenly, the musketry died 
in spattering bursts, and over all came the yell of 
triumph. 

Everything on the first line, the stone walls, the 
advanced crest, the tangled wood, and the half-fin- 
ished breastworks had been carried. 

Side by side still marched Captain Chetwood and 
^Andy Potter. 

No man in that army evinced greater courage than 
the Buckeye boy in that charge. 

Spattered with the blood of those who had been cut 
down by the enemy’s shells, Andy did not flinch, but 
moved on, swinging his sabre and shouting “Come 
on, boys!” at the top of his lungs. 

By his side rushed Chetwood, both men a little in 
advance of the line at the last. 

When the breastworks were carried, and shouts of 
victory rang over the field, Andy Potter mounted a 
stone wall, flopped his arms, and crowed lustily. 

“The Confeds run like sin! Didn’t we give it to 
*em, colonel?’* 


VICTORY. 


187 


Andy appealed to Captain Chetwood. 

“We certainly made them run,” answered the cap- 
tain; “but it isn’t best to crow before w'e’re out of 
the woods. ” 

“Wall, I think ’tis,” cried Andy, quickly. “Crow 
while you have a chance: that’s my idee.” 

“Perhaps that’s logic, or something akin to it, ” re- 
turned the captain, with a laugh. 

But the battle for the mastery was not yet decided, 
l^rue, the Unionists had swept everything before 
them so far; but Early, from a new position, opened 
with his artillery, and shot and shell crashed through 
the Union ranks. 

Sheridan, heedless of the storm, dashed along the 
front— giving all his orders to division and corps 
commanders in person : for in this fearful crisis he 
would trust no subordinates. 

His eyes flashed fire, and his countenance wore a 
confident expression, while his short, emphatic ap- 
peals rang like a bugle call to his excited troops. 

It was a time when one man’s influence was felt as 
a mighty power. The magnetism of Sheridan was 
wonderful. 

“Charge !” 

Once more the order rang down the line. 

With a shout that rolled in terrific volume along 
the line, the Unionists moved forward upon the sec- 
ond position of the enemy. 

Through thickets, over the stone walls and ridges, 
the Unionists went with a thrilling cheer. 

Still at the front pressed Captain Chetwood and 
Andy Potter. 

It was a grand advance — a thrilling charge, and 
the Confederates were unable to stand before it. 

A more astonished body of soldiers than that of 
Early’s probably never existed. 

A stand was made, and some desperate fighting in 
parts of the field ensued. 


188 


VICTORY. 


Elated with victory, Captain Chetwood dashed on 
some rods in advance of the line — into and through a 
dense thicket, running plump upon a line of gray- 
coats, who were firing their muskets for the last time 
ere going back in flight. 

The sight of the blue-coat, and alone, maddened 
the foe, and they fired upon him, luckily without 
effect, in the confusion of the moment, then several 
dashed upon him with fixed bayonets, intent on run- 
ning him through. 

Captain Chetwood reeled back then. 

Until this moment he had not realized how far he 
was in advance of the Union line. 

“You’re our meat, Yank!” 

The captain drew his pistol and sent two of his op- 
ponents to earth, when his revolver was stricken 
from his hand. 

At this moment the Confederate line fell back. 

Two Southerners remained, however, to finish the 
daring Yankee who had so far forgotten himself as 
to rush ahead of his own line of battle. 

Captain Chetwood staggered against a tree, an 
empty musket in his hand, with two bayonets at his 
breast, when a bright flash filled his eyes, and both 
muskets were stricken down. 

“Hydra-heads, take that!” 

A long sabre swept through the air, and both of 
the captain’s assailants fell back, one going to earth 
with his skull split from crown to chin. 

It was a tremendous blow, one that quite startled 
the captain, when he gazed at the long, slim arm of 
the sabre-wielder, Andy Potter. 

“My soul, Andy! how did you do that?” 

“A simple turn of the wrist, captain.” 

The second man was glad to escape by flight now, 
but a Federal bullet found his life ere he had gone 
many yards, and he fell to rise no more. 


WILD ROUT. 


189 


CHAPTER XXXVL 

WILD ROUT. 

Once more the veterans of Eongstreet and Early 
were on the run. 

The fierce onslaught of the Union troop was too 
much for them, who had supposed the Federals in- 
capable of further effort until the next day at least. 

The enemy was astounded, dumfounded, panic- 
stricken. 

The victory of the morning had been snatched from 
their hands, and Sheridan and his men were once 
more on the offensive, dashing with wild and irresisti- 
ble fury upon the foe. 

The astonished foe turned and fled in confusion 
over the fields. 

As they streamed down into the Middletown Mead- 
ows, Sheridan saw that the time for the cavalry had 
come, and ordered a charge. 

The blast of a bugle was the first notice Captain 
Chetwood received of the cavalry charge. 

The captain was well to the right of the Union line, 
and not far from the spot over which the moving 
squadrons of mounted blue-coats would pass in their 
onward rush upon the enemy. 

The infantry had come to a halt in this part of the 
field, and Captain Chetwood stood leaning upon his 
gun, with Andy Potter near, drawing the edge of his 
sword across a fallen gray-coat, to clear its surface of 
blood. 

“Hello!’’ ejaculated Potter; “wasn’t that a 
bugle?” 


190 


WILD ROUT. 


“It was a bugle, my boy,” answered the captain. 
“The squadrons of Merritt and Custer are coming.” 

“And they’ll hump the rebs through ’thout feed!” 
cried Potter. “Let’s git over yonder and see ’em 
pass. Like as anyway, ‘Loy’l Mose’ ’ll be there.” 

Captain Chetwood had not thought of this. 

With quick step the two made their way still farther 
to the right. 

Soon the loud tramp of moving horses fell on their 
ears. 

Louder and louder it became, and soon a long line 
of cavalry appeared, coming at a run. 

On the flank nearest to them rode men clad in blue 
tunics and slouch hats. 

Captain Chetwood recognized them at once. 

“The Loyal Tigers, and Mose still rides at their 
head,” ejaculated Captain Chetwood, in a tone evinc- 
ing the most intense satisfaction. 

“Loyal Mose” and his men came forward at a 
gentle trot, not yet having given their animals rein. 

“Halt!” 

“Loyal Mose” gave the command as his troop 
came opposite Captain Chetwood. 

The captain dashed forward instantly. 

An empty saddle moved beside the leader of the 
Loyal Tigers. 

“The man was wounded, and remained behind, but 
his horse would follow the command,” explained 
Moses Bluff. “Mount, captain, and come on to the 
final victory.” 

The captain turned to Andy Potter, as if to ques- 
tion him. 

“Go. I’ll keep with the footmen.” 

The young and awkward Buckeye leaped to the 
side of the horse to whose back Captain Chetwood 
vaulted, unbuckled his belt and laid it, sabre and all, 
in front of his friend. 

“You’ll need it; I don’t,” 


W1!LD ROUT. 


191 


There was no time for remonstrance. The lines 
were already going forward on the run far in advance 
of the Toyal Tigers, so the captain accepted the weap- 
ons, buckled the belt about his waist, and was ready 
when the order was once more given to advance. 

• “Hurrah!” 

With a hearty cheer, the Virginia rangers dashed 
forward toward the retreating brigades. 

On and on, like the wind, swept the little party, 
going with such fearful -velocity as to overtake the 
line of Unionists that had a minute before swept on 
in advance. 

There was scarcely a show of resistance on the part 
of the Confederates. 

A- fearful panic had come upon them suddenly ; 
such a panic as, earlier in the day, sent the Unionists 
fleeing like frightened sheep before the legions of 
Early. 

Down upon the fleeing gray-coats came Custer’s 
and Merritt’s men, like a clattering tempest on the 
right and left, doubling up the flanks and cleaving a 
terrible path through the broken ranks. 

Back to, and through the Union camps, which they 
had swept like a whirlwind in the morning, the 
panic-stricken foe went pell-mell, leaving all the artil- 
lery they had captured, and much of their own, and 
strewing the way with muskets, clothing, knapsacks, 
and anything that could impede their flight. 

The infantry were too tired to continue the pursuit, 
but the cavalry kept it up, driving them through 
Strasburg to Fisher’s Hill, and beyond, to Woodstock, 
sixteen miles distant. 

It was a glorious ride for Captain Chetwood, and 
“Eoyal Mose” was in his element, chasing the men 
he hated. 

On the route Captain Chetwood spoke of his ad- 
venture and narrow escape from the hands of Colonel 
Trafton, 


192 


WILD BOUT. 


“So that villain was not killed as you supposed?” 
cried Moses Bluff, excitedly. 

“It seems not. ” 

“lam glad of it!” cried the young ranger, quickly. 
“The villain still lives for my vengeance.” 

“No mercy should be shown him!” cried the cap- 
tain. 

“None will be, if I meet the villain!” grated 
“koyalMose. ” 

Then the rangers swept on in their pursuit, passing 
fleeing men and any amount of debris along the way. 

Presently they passed down a hill and entered a 
wood. 

In passing through the copse. Captain Chetwood 
became separated from “koyal Mose, ” but he was 
closely followed by a portion of the Loyal Tigers. 

The young captain had pushed his way forward but 
a little distance when an open glade appeared, and 
several gray-coats suddenly sprang from the ground 
— a dozen of them, perhaps. 

“Down with your arms and surrender!” shouted 
Captain Chetwood, as he advanced with drawn sabre. 

The two parties were about even, however, and the 
Confederates showed fight. They were cavalrymen, 
too, as their horses were standing near. 

A grand seramble was made for the saddles. 

Spang — spang ! 

The Tigers, who were not under ' Captain Chet- 
wood’s orders, began firing upon the enemy, and soon 
a brisk fight began. 

“Ha! it is Captain Chetwood. We meet again, and 
this time I’ll make sure of you!” 

The Union captain recognized the voiee, as he 
found himself confronted by Colonel Trafton, who 
had suddenly dashed upon the seene at the head of a 
fresh body of men. It was evident he hoped to kill 
Captain Chetwood, and put to rout the dozen men 
who followed at his back. 


DYING FOR THE FLAG. 


193 


The colonel had counted without his host. 

Captain Chetwood wielded his sabre to good advan- 
tage, and, in the midst of the fight, he felled the colo- 
nel from his horse. 

Almost at the same instant a wild shout ran in the 
ears of the little band of rangers, who were outnum- 
bered three to one. 

“Loyal Mose’’ had come to the rescue, and, after a 
brisk fight, the Confederates were put to flight. 

“Who has done this?” 

Captain Chetwood was startled at this cry from the 
lips of Moses Bluff, as the young ranger flung him- 
self from the saddle and stood beside the form of the 
Southern leader — Colonel Ezra Trafton. 

He lay gasping, with a frightful wound in his 
neck, from which the blood gushed copiously. 

“Some one has deprived me of my revenge!” 

Captain Chetwood slipped from the saddle, and 
stood beside the commander of the Loyal Tigers. 

“It was I who felled the villain,” said the captain; 
“but it was in self-defense, I swear it.” 

“It is fate; but I hoped to mete out vengeance with 
this good right hand,” said Bluff, in a sombre tone. 

Just then the fallen colonel turned and glared furi- 
ously at the commander of the Loyal Tigers. 

“Mose — Mose, it is you!” fell from the dying 
man’s lips. 


CHAPTER XXXVIL 

DYING FOR THF FRAG. 

“Colonel Trafton, we meet again, for the last time, 
it seems,” uttered “Loyal Mose,” as he bent over 
the dying Confederate raider. 

A low muttered oath fell from the blood-stained 
lips of the colonel. His eyes rolled wildly, and it was 


194 


DYING FOR THE FLAG. 


evident that he suffered mentally as well as physi- 
cally. 

“Where — where is the villain who struck this 
blow?” gasped the dying man. 

Captain Chetwood stood before him. 

“Ah, Chetwood, you have finished me, and now 
gloat over the deed. But — but you haven’t won. She 
will hate the man who killed her promised husband. 
You have lost the game after all. ” 

The man gasped, choked, and could say no more, 
and in a few minutes was dead. 

Captain Chetwood shuddered. 

It was true ; he had slain the man to whom Bertha 
McVane was engaged. She would hate and scorn him 
now. But he could not be blamed. In self-defense he 
had slain the villain, a man who lacked the honor- 
able nature of a gentleman or foeman honestly fight- 
ing for love of country. 

“The man is dead,” uttered a ranger, who stood 
near. 

“Dead! Mary, your are avenged at last!” 

It was a fervent amen that fell from the lips of 
“lyoyal Mose. ” 

A moment later he had vaulted into the saddle, 
and was ready to leave the scene. 

The dead colonel was left where he had fallen, 
among several of his men, and the “Loyal Tigers” 
continued the pursuit after the fleeing Confederates. 

The rangers came to a halt as the shadows of night 
fell over the fields and woods. 

It had been a day well fought, a day well won, and 
great satisfaction prevailed among the “Loyal 
Tigers,” as well as throughout the entire army. 

“The day is won, my friend,” said “Loyal Mose” 
to Captain Chetwood, “and night comes. Perhaps 
you would like to return to camp.” 

“And you?” 

“Oh, as for me, I shall chase the enemy until morn- 


DYING FOR THE FLAG. 


19S 


ing, perhaps ; but I will send some of my men back 
with you.” 

“No need of that, Mose. I think I will go back, 
but I can return alone,” answered Captain Chetwood. 

But “koyal Mose” insisted on sending a guard, and 
at length the captain consented to accepting six of 
the “Loyal Tigers” as escort. 

’ Bidding Mose good-by, with the promise that they 
would meet on the morrow, if nothing occurred to pre- 
vent, the two friends separated. 

Back over the turnpike leading past Fisher’s Hill 
to the old camp-ground the captain dashed, well sat- 
isfied with the work of the day. 

He was still puzzled to know who Ned Bright was, 
and why he had interested himself in his behalf, and 
was resolved to know, should he ever meet the boy 
again. 

“Hello, captain!” 

A loud voice greeted the ears of Chetwood as he 
rode up to a camp-fire near a clump of trees. 

“Sim Johnson!” exclaimed the captain, as he rec- 
ognized one of his own men, the first he had seen be- 
longing to his company since early morning. 

“It’s me for a fact, captain. Lord, though, I never 
expected to see ye ag’in. It’s been an awful time.” 

“It has, indeed,” admitted the captain; “but the 
victory is ours at last, thank Heaven!” 

“You bet. Little Phil made the fur fly.” 

The soldier had gained his feet now — he had been 
reclining on the ground — and stood beside the cap- 
tain’s horse. 

“Where are the rest of the boys, Sim?” 

“Scattered all over, ” answered Johnson. “Some 
of ’em have got to the Potomac by this time, I 
reckon,” and the man laughed, as if pleased. 

The captain was about to drive on, when Johnson 
halted him again. 

“Say, captain, I come nigh forgettin’ — there’s a 


196 


DYING FOR THE FLAG. 


poor chap lays out here, wounded bad ; mebbe he’s 
dead ’fore this. I don’t know who he is, only that 
he fit like all git out, and fell where he’d piled the 
rebs in dozens. He’s called for Captain Chetwood a 
dozen times. ’ ’ 

Quickly the captain sprang from his horse and 
stood beside the soldier, Johnson. 

“Show me the spot.” 

“This way, captain.” 

Johnson led the way some little distance to the left, 
where a smoldering fire was discovered, under the 
branches of a tree. 

“Captain Chetwood, why don’t he come?” 

The voice sounded familiar. 

Releasing the bridle rein, the captain suddenly 
stepped into the circle of light. 

There, on a little grassy mound, with face drawn 
and white, his body racked with pain, lay a wounded, 
dying soldier. 

Quickly, Captain Chetwood knelt beside the fallen 
man. 

“Captain, you did come!” cried the soldier, in a 
tone of thankfulness. 

“I did come; but how did this happen? Are you 
badly hurt, Andy, my brave boy?” 

“They have fixed me, captain. I’m going to die, 
and — and I am so glad you have come. I can die in 
peace now, ’ ’ uttered Andy Potter, huskily. 

“Calm yourself, my boy. I will call the surgeon 


“No, no,” the dying boy interrupted. “He saw 
me. The wound is goin’ to kill me, he said so, but I 
knew it afore. We had a tussle a little ways from 
here, and I got the worst on’t. They have fixed me 
for certain. ’ ’ 

Captain Chetwood was deeply moved. Somehow, 
he had taken a deep interest in the awkward, but 


DYING FOR THE FLAG. 


197 


true-hearted Buckeye boy, whom he had met for the 
first time that day. 

“Ah, what’s that?” 

A loud cheer rang up from the camps below, and 
was caught up and echoed along the ridge. 

‘.‘The boys are cheerin’ for victory; more good 
news from the front,” cried Johnson, who still stood 
near. 

It was true ! 

The enthusiasm of the Unionists over their great 
and, unexpected victory could not be quelled. 

Long into the night the cheers of the men would 
ring out at intervals, although they had eaten noth- 
ing since the previous day, and were surrounded by 
dead and dying. 

Notwithstanding the dead and wounded lay every- 
where, and the field presented a ghastly spectacle, 
nothing could check the wild excitement and enthusi- 
asm of officers and men at their wonderful victory. 

For some moments, Andy Potter lay breathing 
heavily, listening to the shouts and cheers of the tired 
soldiers. 

A smile swept his face at last. 

“They got it bad, captain.” 

“They have been utterly routed,” answered Chet- 
wood. 

“ I am so glad I did what I could, captain. You can 
answer for that. I ” 

“You have done brave work for the Union to-day, 
my noble boy. You are a hero. ” 

The smile still lingered on the face of the dying 
young soldier. 

“Washington was a hero, but such chaps as we 
han’t no right to ther name. Dad always said I wa’n’t 
good for anything. Won’t you tell him, captain, ef 
you ever go ter Ohio, that Andy did fight a little; 
tell him — tell him that I didn’t run, anyhow.” 

“He shall know all, my brave boy.” 


198 


A STRANGE OCCURRENCE. 


‘‘I — I meant ter live an’ go back with flyin’ 
colors,” pursued the youth, huskily. “Mother an’ 
Uncle Jose would a been glad to see me, and knowed 
I’d fit fur ther fiag. But the Lord knows best, don’t 
he, captain?” 

“Yes, my boy. Don’t worry on that account. You 
have done your duty nobly. Some one has a monster 
crime to answer for, some one.” 

“I know it. That’s what Uncle Jose always said. 
It’s Jeff Davis and his pals. They’ll be hung, won’t 
they?” 

‘ ‘ Perhaps. ’ ’ 

“But then, I don’t hate nobody, as I once did,” 
uttered Andy again. “Mebbe Jeff Davis’ll die of re- 
morse, ef they don’t hang him. I’m sorry if I’ve did 
anybody an injury, even the Confeds, if they didn’t 
deserve it. But I fit for the flag ; and them as spit on 
it, an’ dragged it in the dust hez got ther punish- 
ment. I — I feel that the Stars an’ Stripes’ll come out 
ahead in the end. It’s worth dyin’ fur, captain.” 

“Yes,” answered the captain, with moist eyes. 
“Thousands have died for the old emblem of the re- 
public, and thousands more will lay down their lives, 
if need be, for its preservation. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

A STRANGE OCCURRENCE. 

A short silence fell over the little group by the 
camp-fire. 

The drawn, white face of The dying Buckeye bov 
looked almost ghastly in the sombre shadows. 

It was an occasion for deep gravity, and the fre- 
quent cheers and laughter seemed out of place at 
such a time. 

It was a glorious victory, however, and even the 


A STEANGE OCCUKEENCE. 


199 


wounded lifted up their heads and joined faintly in 
the cheers. 

“We’ve licked ’em! Tell dad, and — and mother, 
that I died fur the old flag. ’ ’ 

“I will, my boy. ” 

The face of Andy Potter seemed illuminated with 
a sudden light, a look not of pain, but of gladness, 
seemed stealing over every feature. 

Captain Chetwood bent low over the moving lips 
that now uttered words too low to be heard far by 
mortal ears. 

“They have come — don’t you see them — brave 
boys who have died fur the flag? They come, they 
come, and — and I am going over — over ” 

The faint whisper perished on the trembling lips. 

With a faint smile irradiating his sallow, homely 
countenance, the Buckeye boy breathed his last. 

One more martyr, but one of thousands sacrificed, 
that the Union of our fathers might live. 

“He has gone. A braver soul never struck a blow 
for the Union,” uttered Captain Chetwood, as he rose 
to his feet, and stood with folded arms, looking sadly 
down into the face of the dead young soldier. 

“He fit like a tiger, captain; I can swear to that!” 
cried Sim Johnson, with emphasis. 

Captain Chetwood soon walked from the spot, and 
stood leaning against a tree, lost in pained thought. 

By killing Colonel Trafton he had forever alienated 
the affections of Bertha McVane whom he felt he loved 
dearer than ever. 

But then, what did it matter? As the colonel’s 
wife she could never have been anything to him. 

“I will visit Clymore’s to-morrow,” muttered the 
young captain, “and tell Bertha how Colonel Trafton 
came to die. I will not leave her in doubt as to the 
time and manner of his death. ’ ’ 

The battle known in history as Cedar Creek or 


200 


A STKANGE OCCUREENCE. 


Middletown, had been fought and won by the Union 
forces. 

In some respects this is the most remarkable battle 
in history. 

Other lost fields have been won ; but rarely by the 
presence of a single man. 

Marengo was lost to Napoleon, but won again by 
the arrival of the gallant Desoix with his fresh col- 
umn. Blucher’s opportune arrival with sixty thous- 
and fresh troops saved the day for the beaten English 
at Waterloo. 

Shiloh was lost to Grant, but won again by the op- 
portune arrival of Buell, with his trained battalions ; 
but here a lost battle was won by the arrival of 
Sheridan alone. 

By the power of his single presence as he dashed 
along the shattered lines, and the magic of his voice, 
as, now gay and confident, now stern and terrible, he 
strengthened the discouraged or awed the timid, and 
recalled the fugitives, he was able to reorganize the 
broken ranks almost under the guns of the enemy. 

He not only dissipated despair, and restored con- 
fidence, but breathed into the army enthusiasm and 
daring, and positive strength, so that after hours of 
defeat and terrible losses in men and artillery, it not 
only made a successful stand, but broke into a furious 
offensive, and charging the victorious enemy behind 
his intrenchments, drove him in utter rout from the 
field. ^ 

This single battle, if he had fought no other, 
would stamp Sheridan as a great commander. 

The Union loss in this battle amounted to over six 
thousand men, while that of tl^e Confederates was 
not much over a third as great, thus showing under 
what immense disadvantage Sheridan snatched a vic- 
tory from the very jaws of defeat. 

The North was soon ringing with the news of 
Sheridan’s great victory. 


A STEANGE OCCUEEENCE. 201 

Bells were rung, cannon fired, and every manifes- 
tation of joy exhibited through the Northland. 

It was a victory with a meaning. 

It was the last great battle in the Shenandoah. 

No one was more gratified than Grant, who, as 
soon as he heard the news, telegraphed to the Secre- 
tary of War these words ; 

“I had a salute of one hundred guns fired from 
each of the armies here, in honor of Sheridan’s last 
victory. Turning what bid fair to be a disaster into a 
glorious victory, stamps Sheridan, what I have al- 
ways thought him, one of the greatest of generals. 

“U. S. Grant, Ivieutenant-general. ” 

The enemy made no other attempt to invade the 
North through the Shenandoah Valley, which was 
now called, for them, the Valley of Humiliation. 

About noon the next day, some cavalry detach- 
ments returned to the Union position, and among 
them were the “Loyal Tigers.” 

Their ranks had been perceptibly thinned in the 
great fight, but nearly four-score of blue tunics rode 
behind their gallant young leader. 

The two men, Chetwood and “Loyal Mose, ” stood 
under a tree discussing the situation. 

“We have broken the backbone of the civil war in 
this , part of Virginia ; I am sure of it,” said Moses 
Bluff, earnestly. 

“What will you do now?” 

“I propose to be in at the end,” responded Bluff, 
“and I have thought of joining Grant’s forces in front 
of Petersburg. ’ ’ 

“You are determined to see the end of this war, no 
matter if your enemy is dead?” 

“lam. lam enlisted for the war, captain, as you 
are, Tsuppose?” 

“Certainly. I should be glad to keep you company, 


1S02 


A STRANGE OCCURRENCE. 


Mose, but must remain with the Sixth Corps, in 
which my regiment is incorporated. ” 

“Of course.’’ 

“lam going down to Clymore’s,” said Chetwood. 

“To-day?’’ 

“I had thought of it. ” 

“I will accompany you, if you do not object,” said 
“Loyal Mose.” “I am anxious to see that black-eyed 
girl who nursed me so faithfully, and saved my 
life on two occasions. I tell you, captain, she’s a 
whole team. If it wasn’t for Rosa Anderson, I’d 
surely lose my heart there.” 

“To a fire-eater of the worst sort?” 

“Tush, captain. Bertha McVane is bitter enough 
in her politics, but she’s a true woman all the same. ” 

Captain Chetwood ’s face became very grave. 

“Do you know, Mose, I expect to come in for a 
fearful scorching when this girl learns that I slew 
Colonel Trafton. ” 

“Why so? What was the colonel to her?” 

“Her betrothed husband.” 

“No!” in a tone of great surprise. 

“It is true. She told me so with her own lips.” 

“Good heavens ” 

The young ranger did not give vent to further 
words. 

He seemed too greatly startled — too deeply moved 
to say more. 

An hour later. Captain Chetwood and “Loyal 
Mose” might have been seen riding at a headlong 
pace down a flinty turnpike, followed by six rangers 
as escort. 

A strange thing happened not twenty rods from 
Orvin Clymore’s gate. 

When going at a rapid pace. Captain Chetwood ’s 
horse plunged to earth as if shot to the heart, and 
his rider was flung violently to the ground, where he 
lay, with head gashed and bleeding, from wounds 


NED BKIGHT AGAIN APPEARS. 


203 


inflicted by the sharp stones of the pike, and insensi- 
ble. 

The horse was dead. 

It needed no examination to prove this. 

The fallen man came near being crushed under the 
heels of the troopers’ horses, so sudden had been the 
catastrophe. 

“Is the captain dead?” 

“What shall we do?” 

These were the questions that Bluff’s men asked, 
when they came to their young leader’s side, as he 
bent over the fallen captain. 

“I do not think he is dead,” answered Mose, whose 
own face was quite pale. “We must get him out of 
this, and to. a house at once.” 

“Strangest thing out,” uttered one of the rangers. 

“Never saw a horse fall dead ’thout bein’ teched 
afore. ’ ’ 

“Toyd Mose” made no comment. 

He ordered his men to lift the insensible form of 
the captain, while he led the way up to the door of 
Orvin Clymore’s farm-house. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

NED BRIGHT AGAIN APPEARS. 

When Captain Royal Chetwood opened his eyes, he 
gazed about him in utter astonishment. 

Where was he, and what had happened? 

Above his head was a white ceiling, and around 
him the walls of a room. 

This satisfied him that he was not on the battle- 
field. His brain was in a whirl, and he could not, for 
the life of him, tell where he was, and what had hap- 
pened. 


204 


NED BRIGHT AGAIN APPEARS. 


His head ached severely, and was swathed in ban- 
dages. 

While he gazed about him in utter bewilderment, 
a door opened ; he did not see it but heard the creak- 
ing sound, and some one entered the room. 

Presently the sound of a dress rustled near, and the 
next moment a young woman stood at his side. 

“Bertha McVane!” ejaculated the Union captain, 
in evident wonder. 

She Smiled now, and laid a soft hand on his ban- 
daged brow. 

“You are better — you will live, captain!” 

“What the duse has happened?” cried Royal, at- 
tempting to sit upright, but sinking into the pillows 
with a gasp of pain. 

“Don’t try to sit up. You are in a bad way yet. 
Captain Chetwood,” said Bertha, soothingly. “You 
were thrown from your horse, and left here by Moses 
Bluff yesterday. ’ ’ 

“Yesterday! My soul! have I been lying here all 
this time?” gasped the astonished captain. 

“You have. Don’t worry. You are safe here. The 
Tigers have gone on, and I am to care for you ; it is 
Mr. Bluff ’s instructions. ” 

“Mr Bluff,” muttered Chetwood. 

“ ‘Loyal Mose’ — your friend.” 

“Yes — yes, ” uttered the dazed captain, watching 
the maiden’s face narrowly. 

She was the same Bertha, yet she seemed strangely 
altered, too, since he had last met her. 

When she learned that Colonel Trafton was dead, 
and by his hand, she would doubtless feel more like 
wishing him dead than nursing him back to life. 

She seated herself at the head of the bed and 
watched him curiously. 

“Bertha.” 

“Well, captain?” 


NEB BRIGHT AGAIN APPEARS. 205 

“I was thrown from my horse and hurt, you tell 
me, yesterday?” 

‘^Yes.” 

“And Moses Bluff left me here?” 

“Yes.” 

“Bertha, do you know ” 

“Do I know what?” she questioned, as he hesi- 
tated. 

“That — that Colonel Trafton is dead?” 

< < Yes. ’ ’ 

“You do?’ 

“I know all about it The colonel was killed in the 
battle. ” 

“Who told you that?” 

“ ‘Loyal Mose. ’ ” 

How calm she was ! 

Not the slightest show of emotion. 

He could not understand it. 

Indeed, he was fairly bewildered. 

She, the betrothed wife of the dead colonel, and 
yet not a tear. 

He looked at her searchingly. 

“Bertha. ” 

“Yes, Captain Chetwood.” 

Her voice sounded strangely tender to him. 

“Did you know how Colonel Trafton died?” 

“No.” 

The gallant captain’s heart sank low again. 

But he was resolved to tell her all. 

She would hate him — she would despise him — but, 
no matter. 

It was his duty to tell her the truth, be the conse- 
quences what they might. 

“I fear you will abhor me, Bertha,” he said, in 
tremulous tones, “but it was his life or mine — I 
killed Colonel Trafton!” 

“Ah!” 

“Yes. I cut him down in self-defense.” 


206 NED HEIGHT AGAIN APPEAllS. 

believe you, Captain Chetwood, and — I am not 
angry with you for the deed, as you seem to fear.” 

“Bertha!” 

“There — there, lie still. You must not excite your- 
self.” 

She laid her soft hand tenderly on his forehead. 

“You think my actions strange. You wonder why 
I take the colonel’s death so calmly. The man who 
was to have been my husband. Lie quiet and I’ll ex- 
plain all to you. Then you will understand.” 

She looked at him strangely, and, smoothing back 
the hair from his forehead, continued: 

“Although Colonel Traf ton was my betrothed, I 
am confident he never loved me as a woman expects 
to be loved. The vail fell from my eyes the day he 
attempted the life of your friend. He then stood be- 
fore me in a new and evil light. A man capable of 
perpetrating any crime to achieve an unhallowed 
purpose. My visit here at Uncle Orvin’s gave me the 
opportunity to discover the real character of my 
promised husband. Moses Bluff told me all. How 
the colonel deceived his sister, and when that unfor- 
tunate woman followed him to Charleston on the eve 
of the war, how her death was compassed by the con- 
spiracy of her betrayer and another man as bad as 
himself. I know how you, Royal, tried to save that 
poor girl — and the mystery of that shooting affair on 
the old stone turnpike in which you figured in the 
papers at the time, is plain to me at last. I am also 
fully informed about his attempts upon your life of 
late. How to cover his vindictive purpose he tried to 
brand you as a spy. Do you wonder any longer that 
his memory has no sorrow in it for me? That I have 
ceased to regard him in any other light than that of 
a man whom it were a charity to forget?” 

Royal clasped the girl’s unresisting hand, and after 
a pause raised it unchecked to his lips. 


NED BRIGHT AGAIN APPEARS. 207 

“Bertlia/’ he said, softly, “did you ever really 
love Colonel Trafton?” 

“No,” she said, with averted face. “I am sure I 
never did. It was to please the Senator, my father, 
that I accepted his advances. Once engaged, I admit 
I tried to like him — I donH think I succeeded in the 
least. He repelled me — yet I would have married 
him in the end, I suppose, had he not met his death 
and his true character remained unexposed.” 

“You had a narrow escape from an uncongenial 
union. ” 

“For which I shall never cease to thank our 
Heavenly Father.” 

“Twice he attempted to murder me. Once Bluff 
saved my life, but the last time it was a boy, Ned 
Bright, by name, who came between me and the hand 
of Colonel Trafton.” 

“Indeed! Ned and I are great friends. ” 

“Is it possible?” 

“It is; and I will call him, if you wish to see and 
thank him for saving your life.” 

“Nothing would please me better.” 

Bertha arose and passed from the room, leaving the 
captain to his own reflections. 

Captain Chetwood had relapsed into a dreamy state 
when the door again opened, and some one crossed 
the floor and confronted the wounded Federal. 

Chetwood turned his head and saw Ned Bright 
standing there, gazing at him with a smile on his face. 

“Ned Bright! I am glad to see you. I ” 

A low, musical laugh filled the ears of the captain. 

And then a sudden revelation burst on the brain of 
the invalid. 

“My soul! It is Bertha McVane!” 


CONCLUSION. 


m 


CHAPTER XE. 

CONCLUSION. 

“You penetrate my disguise easy enough now ; but 
on the field of battle you did not recognize me, ’ ^ said 
the girl, sinking into a chair. 

“You deceived Colonel Trafton as well,’’ returned 
the captain. “But how did you come to visit the 
battle-field in this guise, Bertha? I am bursting with 
curiosity. ’ ’ 

“I can explain in a few words. I wished to visit a 
neighbor who lives some miles down the road. Know- 
ing the country was full of hard characters, I assumed 
this disguise for safety. It was on my return that 
curiosity led me' to the victorious camp of the Con- 
federates. It was by accident that I saw you in the 
hands of Mosby’s men. I planned to save you because 
— well, because we were pretty good friends, you 
know. I did not suspect murder was meditated. It 
was only to save you from a Southern prison that I 
planned your release ; but it seems my clever device 
saved your life. 

‘ ‘ Being pretty well acquainted with the country, I 
led the squad into the Union lines before they were 
aware of what was being done. ’ ’ 

The maiden’s explanation was of deeper moment 
than would at first seem. 

Bertha, with her fierce Southern proclivities, would 
not go thus out of her way to serve a Union officer 
unless her heart was in the act. 

Captain Chetwood realized this. 

“Bertha,” he said, softly, while his whole soul 
was reflected in his ardent gaze, “tell me, darling, 
that all that I have suffered during the last four years 


CONCLUSION. 


209 


has been but an ugly dream. Tell me that I may yet 
hope. Oh, Bertha,’^ and he held out his arms to her, 
“are we still enemies?^’ 

“No, Royal, no,” she exclaimed, throwing herself 
into his embrace, and nestling her head upon his 
shoulder. “We are not enemies, for I love you with 
all my heart — with all my soul!” 

“My own true darling!” 

One week later Captain Chetwood was able to re- 
join the army. 

At the gate, repaired since the raid, the captain 
bade the maiden farewell. 

“When the war ends, let the outcome be what it 
may, you will be mine, Bertha?” 

“You have my word. Royal.” 

He raised her hand to his lips, then sprang to his 
saddle and sped rapidly away. 

jK * * * * * 

Thelvar for the Union was well night at an end 
even then, though Bertha McVane did not suspect 
the truth. 

A few weeks later Captain Chetwood went to join 
Grant’s army before Richmond, and here he met 
“Loyal Mose” again. 

One day a detachment of prisoners was brought 
into camp. 

Royal Chetwood was inspecting these unfortunates. 

The first to receive his attention were of course, the 
officers, of which there were perhaps a dozen. 

“Upon my word, this is an unexpected pleasure. 
Captain Chetwood, ” said one of them, with a rich 
brogue. 

“Major Chetwood, if you please; but I do not rec- 
ognize you, sir, though you appear to know me.” 

“Upon me soul, is it possible? Have I so changed, 
then, that you fail to perceive your humble servant. 
Major de Banyan?” 

“Indeed, it is you, then,” said Royal, coldly. 


210 


CONCLUSION. 


“Faith, it is, please the pigs. For the sake of old 
acquaintance, captain — pardon me, Major Chetwood, 

I hope you’ll be after making my stay as easy as pos- 
sible. ’ ’ 

“I cannot promise you any different treatment from 
that accorded to your brother officers. ’ ’ 

“Faith, a gentleman and an officer ” 

“You will be treated with all due consideration 
your rank entitles you to. But permit me to state that 
your conduct in Charleston, as it came under my eye, 
was not consistent with the character of a gentleman, 
but rather that of a — pardon my plainness — black- 
guard. ’ ’ 

Major Chetwood passed on. 

The reader easily perceives that our hero had been 
advanced in rank, for personal valor on the field of 
battle. 

Not many months later, Tee, the sole prop of the 
Southern cause, hemmed in by Grant, and without a 
single hope of succor, was forced to surrender uncon- 
ditionally. 

“Richmond has fallen!” 

The cry was echoed throughout the length and , 
breadth of the nation. 

The weary struggle was over at last. 

Peace, that blessed word, was an accomplished 
fact. 

The victorious army of veterans passed through 
Washington and were disbanded. 

A few days later Royal Chetwood and Mose parted, 
for the time being, the latter going to Maryland to 
claim the hand of Rose Anderson, one of the fairest 
of Maryland’s fair daughters. 

Major Chetwood did not forget the promise he 
had made to Andy Potter, and soon after leaving the 
army he sought out, in the Miami Valley, the home 
of Deacon Potter, and there gave the good deacon 
evidence that his son had amounted to something at 


CONCLUSION. 


211 


last—lie had died for the Union and the flag, and was 
a genuine hero. 

It was a year after the war ere Major Chetwood 
claimed the hand of Bertha McVane, and the mar- 
riage took place in the wealthy home of the Mc- 
Vanes, at Charleston, South Carolina. The war ended 
sectional strife forever, let us hope, and the graves of 
the dead, both North and South, are watered with 
tears. We would say, with the poet : 

“ Under the sod and the dew, 

Waiting the judgment day; 

Love and tears for the Blue, 

Tears and love for the Gray.” 

[the; e;nd.] 


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throughout the country, or any of the following C. & O. agencies : 

NEW YORK— 362 and 1323 Broadway. 

WASHINGTON— 513 and 1421 Pennsylvania avenue. 

CINCINNATI- Corner Fifth and Walnut streets. 

LOUISVILLE— 253 Fourtli avenue. 

ST. LOUIS— Corner Broadway and Chestnut street. 

CHICAGO— 234 Clark street. 

0. B. RYAN, Assistant General Passenger Agent, Cincinnati, O. 

H. W. PULLER, General Passenger Agent, Washington, D, 0. 



F. J. MOORE, General Agent, 23 Bkchange St., Buffalo, N. Y. 

A. W. JOHNSTON, Gen. Supt., B. F. HORNER. Gen. Puss. Agent. 

CLEVELAND, O. ^ 







B^oie Ajut^ jE»ieis«cii»AXr f»oii«ts iss 

MISSOURI, 

KANSAS, 

INDIAN TERRITORY, 

TEXAS, 

MEXICO 

CALIFORNIA. 


FREE RECLINING CHAIR CARS ON ALL TRAINS. 


THROUGH WAGNER PALACE BUFFET SLEEPING CARS 
FROM THE TO THE 

OE^ 2VIEJXIOO. 


For further information call on or address your nearest 
Ticket Agent, or 

G. P. & T. A., 

St. Louis, li/LO. 


There is little need of emphasizing the FACT that the 


Maine Central 
Railroad 

Has been the developer of Bar Harbor, and has made this incomparable 

summer home the 

Crown of the Atlantic Coast» 

AND Mnt?pnvpi?f ^ 

The Natural Wonders of the White Mountains, 

The Wierd Grandeur of the Dixville Notch, 

The Quaint Ways and Scenes of Quebec, 

The Multifarious Attractions of Montreal, 

The Elegance of Poland Springs, 

The inexhaustable Fishing of Rangeley, 

The Unique Scener5’’ of Moosehead, 

The Remarkable Healthfuluess of St. Andrews, 

Are all within contact of the ever-lengthening arms 
of the Maine Central Railroad. 

The Renowned Vacation Line, 

Or, to those who enjoy Ocean Sailing, the statement is made that the pioneer 
line along the coast of Maine, making numerous landings at picturesque 
points, almost encircling the Island of Mt. Desert is the 

Portland, Mt. Desert and 
Machias Steamboat Co. 


The New, Large and Luxurious Steamer, “Frank Jones,” makes, during 
the summer season, three round trips per week between Rockland, Bar Har- 
bor and Machiasport. 

Illustrated outlines, details of transportation, and other information upon 
application to 


F. E. BOOTHBY, 

G. P, and T. Agt, 


PAYSON TUCKER, 

Vice-Pres’t and Gen, Mgr. 


Portland, Me. 


UIE B in 

lESn KUOili 

Ft. Wayne, Cincinnati, and Louisviiie Raiiroad. 

"Mnral Gas Roate.” Tie Popular Sport Liiio 

BETWEEN 

If eoria, Bloomington, Chicago, St. Louis, Springfield, Lafayett«| 
Frankfort, Mnncie, Portland, Lima, Findlay, Fostorla, 
Fremont, Sandusky, Indianapolis, Kokomo, Peru, 
Rochester, Plymouth, LaPorte, Michigan 
City, Ft. Wayne, Hartford, Blnfiton, 
ConnorsTille, and Cincinnati, making 

Oiract Connections for all Points East, West, North and South, 


THE ONLY LINE TRAVERSING 

THE GREAT NATURAL GAS AND OIL FIELDS 

njf Ohio and Indiana, giving the patrons of this Popular Route an 
(!)pportun4ty to witness the grand sight from the train as they pass 
(through. Great fields covered with tanks, in which are stored millions 
of gallons of oil, Natural Gas wells shooting their flames high in th6 
air, and the most beautiful cities, fairly alive with glass and all kinds 
of factories. 

We .furnish our patrons with Elegant Reclining Chair Car Seats 
Free, on day trains, and L. E. & W. Palace Sleeping and Parlor Cars, 
on night trains, at very reasonable rates. 

Direct connections to and from Cleveland, Buffalo. New York, 
Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Pittsburg, Washington, Kansas City, 
Denver, Omaha, Portland, San Francisco, and all points in the Unit^ 
States and Canada. 

This is the popular route with the ladies, on account of its courteous 
and accommodating train oflSicials, and with the commercial traveler 
and general public for its comforts, quick time and sure connections. 

For any further particulars call on or address any Ticket Agent. 

H. C. PARKER, CHAS. F. DALY, 

Trmffle Manager, Gta’l Fast* Tkt. Asti 

DfBlANAF01*I9. 




THE 


DELAWARE 

HUDSON 
RAILROAD. 

THE ONLY DIRECT ROUTE TO THE GREAT 

ADIRONDACK MOUNTAINS, 

Lake George, Lake Champlain, Ausable Chasm, the Adirondack 
Mountains, Saratoga, Round Lake, Sharon Springs, 
Cooperstown, Howe’s Cave, and the Celebrated 
Gravity Railroad between Carbondale 
and Honesdale, Pa., present the 

Greatest Combination of Health and Pleasure Resorts in America. 

THE DIRECT LINE TO THE SUPERB SUMMER HOTEL 
OF THE NORTH, 

“THE HOTEL CHAMPLAIN,” 

(Three Miles South of Plattsburgh, on Lake Champlain.) 

THE SHORTEST AND MOST COMFORTABLE ROUTE 
BETWEEN NEW YORK AND MONTREAL. 


In Connection with the Erie Railway, the most Picturesque 
and Interesting Route between Chicago and Boston. 

The only through Pullman Line. 



Inclose Six Cents in Stamps for Illustrated Guide to 

H. G. YOUNG, J. W. BURDICK, 

2d Vice-President. Gen’l Pass. Agent, Albany, N. Y. 



QKflND TRyNK 


AND 

CHK/IQ0125QR/1NDTKUNK 


R/1ILW/ITS. 


the most Popular Route to the West, 
Combining every Comfort and Luxury. 

PULLMAN AND' WAGNER SLEEPERS ON ALL TRAINS. 


Solid Vestibuled Pullman 
Dining and Sleeping Car Trains 

Through from New York to Chicago without change. 
Choice of route from 

NEW YORK TO 

^ NIAGARA FALLS, SUSPENSION BRIDGE, 

TORONTO, DETROIT, PORT HURON, CHICAGO 

And the West, Northwest, and Southwest, via 

The Celebrated St. Clair Tunnel, 

Which connects Canada and the United States, and is the 
' greatest submarine tunnel in the world. 

The Grand T runk Railway is justly celebrated for its Fish- 
ing and Hunting Resorts, as on and contiguous to it are the 
greatest grounds in the civilized world, among them being the 

Muskoka Lakes, St. Lawrence River, Thousand 
Islands, Lake St. John Region, White 
Mountains, Androscoggin, 

And many others too numerous to mention. 

For information apply to office of Grand Trunk Railway at Boston, Mass.; 
Portland, Me.; Montreal, P. Q..; Toronto, Ont.; Buffalo, N. Y.; Detroit, 

Mich., and 

CHAS. M. HAYS, GEO. B. REEVE, N. J. POWER, 

GENERAL MANAGER, GEN’ L TRAFFIC MANAGER, GEN’ L PASS’ R AGT. 

Frank p. dwyer, e. p. Agt. c. & g. t. Ry., 

S73 BROADWAY, NEW YORK. 


WHEN 
YOU ARE 
THROUGH 

READING 

?THIS BOOKl 

Send me . . . 

SIX OEKTTS 
... for one that tells 
where you can spend 
your Vacation in . . . 

1896 . 

, HORTHESB PiCIFIC RAILROAD, 

OHAHLJES S. JEnKK, 

GJ-en. Pass. .Agent. 

ST. PAUL, 

Minn. 


THE NEW ENGLAND 

xi.^xxj:ei.o^x> CO. 

Travelers between New York and Boston 
should always ask for tickets via the 

“AIR LINE LIMITED” TRAIN, 

Leaving either city 1,00 P, M,, week 
days only, due destination 6.00 P, M, 

BUFFET SMOKER, PARLOR CARS AND COACHES. 

Trains arrive at and leave from Fait Spare Station, Boston. 

fii- 4 . i ^ State House, Park Square Station, Boston. 

Ticket Offices station, New York. 


The Norwich Liine, 

INSIDE ROUTE. 

Steamers leave Pier 40, North Kiver, New York, 6.80 P, M, week 
days only. Connecting at New London with Steamboat Express 
Train due Worcester 8.00 A, M,, Boston 10,00 A. M. 

RETURNING, 

Train leaves Boston 7.00 P. M., Worcester 8.00 P. M., week days 
only. Connecting at New London with Steamers of the 
Line due New York 7.00 A. M, 

Tickets, Staterooms on Steamers, and full information at offices, 

Pier 40, North Kiver, - - NEW YORK. 

3 Old State House, ) ■Rn^NTON’ 

Station foot of Summer St., f 

W. R. BABCOCK, General Passenger Agent, Boston. 
January 21, 1896. 


BELLE-ROSE, 

A Romance of the Cloak and Sword. 

By amedee archard. 


An Original Translatio^i from the Fre^tch^ and for the 
First Time Done into English. 


SOME PRESS COMMENTS. 

“ ‘Belle-Rose’ is the tinted title of a ‘Romance of the Cloak and Sword.* 
It is brisk in style, crisp in dialogue, and intensely colorful. ^ ‘Belle- 

Rose’ will be belle-read if a good, quick story has any charms for the fair.” 
— Fhilu(lelj)hia Call. 

‘‘Emile Faguet speaks of the ‘Belle-Rose’ of Am6d6e Achard as superior 
to 'Le Capitaiue Fracasse,’ bj’-Theophile Gautier. The purest love of woman, 
the fidelity of man, the sacredness of friendship, intrigues of the court, 
jealousies and revenge, a delightful touch of humor or patlios coming to the 
relief at some tragic climax, give to the story a fascination for the reader.” 
— Brooklyn Eagle. 

‘‘The charm that is always to be found in the works of the best French 
writers— quick, terse description, bright dialogue, rapidly shifting scenes 
and incidents, leading up to intense climaxes— is well sustained in the 
story of ‘Belle Rose.’ ” — Boston Times. 

‘‘ ‘Belle-Rose’ is a romance of love and war in the middle of the 17th 
Century. It is true to the life of those troublous times, when the soldier 
was such from youth to old age, resting only between battles to make love. 
The translation is very good, indeGd.”— Post-Intelligencer. 

‘‘The story is full of love and passion, jealousy and revenge, the buffets 
and rewards of war, with flashes of humor, and just those touches of nature 
that make the whole world 'kin.”— Nashville American. ' ^ 

‘‘Among the works of fiction there are few which partake of the char- 
acter of an historical romance, and when one, is found that does it is ap- 
preciated. Such an one is ‘Belle-Rose,’ by AmCdee Achard. The author has 
the knack of giving the details of a sceiie, or describing a character in so 
few words that they might be likened unto pen sketches, and he carries the 
reader along with something of the impetuous dash and fiery ardor that his 
hero is so full of. The translation is very good.”— Louis Star. 

‘‘Am6d6e Archard’s romance of old France, ‘Belle-Rose,’ is a story of 
incessant movement, warfare, intrigue, and all the eleipents which go to 
the composition of an ingenious tale of love and adventure. The translation 
is admirable.”— Courier. — # 

“This story, the scenes of which are laid near Paris during the latter part 
of the 17 th Century, is one of those romances about the life of a soldier dur- 
ing that bloo<ly age, which seems to prove a great attraction to all classes 
of readers. Fierce figliting, hair-breath escapes, court intrigues, are all 
blended with love-making, rescuing beauty in distress, and description of 
the customs of the people in that Baltimore American. 

“ ‘Belle-Rose’ is a brilliant story, by Am6d6e Archard, one of the most 
effective of French romance writers. It is a story of love and war, intro- 
ducing famous historical characters of the period, and will be read with 
deep Minneapolis Journal. 


!^3^XjXjX 3-DF1.0S»!ES is No. 9 of “Paris Series,” for sale by 
all Booksellers or Newsdealers, or sent postpaid to any address on receipt 
of price, 25 cents, by the publishers, STREET & SMITH, 25’‘31 Rose 
St., New York. ’ 


I 


DICMIID FOm, BACHU 





“ ‘Richard Forrest, Bachelor,’ by Clement R. Marley, is a bright and 
I)leasing story. The love story of the old bachelor, whose heart was so 
oiig steeled to woman’s charms, but who succumbs at last to the girl who 
attempts to take the life of his best friend because she imagines he wronged 
her young and beautiful sister, is prettily told.'''— Boston Times. 

“ ‘Richard Forrest, Bachelor,’ is a story whose narration is simple and 
direct, but it has also a freshness and vivacity which add greatly to its 
charms. The characters are well drawn.— .ATcicaWc Advertiser. 

“An entertaining story, telling of the capture of the heart of an old 
bachelor.’’— iVetc YorTc Press. 

“A story of most unconventional type. The theme is good, and it is 
well told. It is all very natural and true to life, and when all is said and 
done it lingers in the mind as a pleasant memory.’’— American. 

“ ‘Richard Forrest, Bachelor,’ is a very pleasing love story, most enter- 
tainingly told,’’— Fo/’Z Worth Gazette. 

“The author tells a very unconventional story in ‘Richard Forrest, 
Bachelor,’ and it is very entertaining.’’- 2froo7cZ?/a Eagle. 

“In ‘Richard Forrest, Bachelor,’ the author gives a very pretty story. 
There are strong religious sentiments, and the author puts forth some well- 
defined ideas on the social relations of men and ^onxGn.”— Philadelphia 
Coil. ' 

“A novel of more than usual Interest is ‘Richard Forrest, Bachelor.’ It 
describes scenes and incidents that may be seen and expei’ienced by any 
one in similar circumstances. Thei’e is much that is strange and stirring in 
the story, yet nature is not departed from either in the incidents or char- 
acters introduced.- Broo/cZyji Citizen. 

“A well-told tale of sustained interest and dramatic character.’’— 
Sacramento Record-Union. 

“The author tells the story of an old bachelor’s love. He gets well along 
in life invulnerable to Cupid's dart, and then he detects the woman of his 
heart’s choice in an attempt upon the life of his bosom friend, to avenge an 
imaginary wrong. It is verj'^ true to Wle.— Atlanta Jourmtl. 

“ ‘Richard Forrest, Bachelor,’ is after the style of “Mr. Barnes of New 
York, but is rather better written.’’— HaW/orrf Times. 


RICHARD FORREST, BACHELOR, is No. 39 of “Primrose Series,” 
for sale by all Booksellers or Newsdealers, or sent postpaid to any address 








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OVER HALF A MILLION OF JULIA EDWARDS’ NOVELS 
HAVE BEEN SOLD. 


Julia Edwards’ Novels. 


A poor girl with the dangerous heritage of beauty 
must needs possess a heart as true as steel to escape the 
traps set to ensnare her by designing men. No living 
writer is the equal of Julia Edwards in the vivid portrayal 
of the struggles and triumphs of the brave daughters of 
the people — the working girls of our great cities. 

These novels are copyrighted and can be had only in 
the (dover Series. Paper, 2S cents, (doth, one dollar. 

41 — Prettiest of All. By Julia Edwards. 

42 — The Little Widow. By Julia Edwards. 

43— Beautiful but Poor. By Julia Edwards. 

44 — Sadia the Bosebud. T?y Julia Edwards. 

45 — Laura Bray ton. B} Julia Edwards. 

4G— Stella, Sterling. By Julia Edwards. 

47 — He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not. By Julia Edwards. 

Julia Edwards’ heroines are all taken from real life, 
and the spirited action of the story holds the attention 
and interest of the reader without intermission from 
cover to cover. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent 
postage free on receipt of price, by the publishers. 

STREET & SMITH, 

2S to 31 Rose Street, New York. 



Over One Million of Mrs. Georgie Shel 
don's Novels have been Sold 


Is#® 

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WAy 

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Clover 


By 

^rs. Georgie Sheldon 

Author of 

)st a Pearle^ Wedded by Fate^ 
Stella Rosevelt, Trixy^ Two 
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Price Twenty-Five 


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Street & Smith, Publishers 
New York 




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